Firezone
by Debbie Kluge
Summary: Story #6 in the Jealousy series. A new enemy with a lust for power makes life difficult for the Quests
1. Prologue Mid December

**NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR**

Welcome to the further adventures of Jonny, Jessie, Hadji and their friends and family. This group of people has become like family to me. I feel as though I have walked beside them, watching them struggling through the bad times and celebrating with them through the good ones. A lot of people have commented that much of it has been very angsty and that's very true. But then, life is that way sometimes. All of us have lived through times like that and probably will again. But the nice thing about this group of people is that we always know that somehow, they will always make it through . . . a bit bruised sometimes, but always the better for it. And that is what has made it fun.

The Quest Saga a la Kluge has grown much bigger than I ever dreamed it would be when I wrote that first story. It now includes the five major original works, _Jealousy, Jealousy II: The Return of Francesca, Summer Camp, On the Edge of Madness_, and _Battlefield_, as well as eight side stories that are built within the universe and are designed to give other glimpses into the characters, both past and future. Those are _Dinner At Eight, Do Not Stand, Full of Grace, The Gift of Flowers, Holiday Homecoming, In Memory, Thanksgiving Blues_ and _Wishing on a Star_. To all of you who have asked for more, I offer this new one . . . I call it Firezone. I hope you will like it.

As before, I owe a deep debt of gratitude to my editor, Susan Howe. In addition to having read and offered constructive criticism on version after version of this tale, she has also been a friend of the first order and I offer her my heartfelt thanks. Thanks also go out to Rob Lyman for the loan of his character, Mary Oldham. I couldn't have devised a better girlfriend for Mike Short if I had tried. 

And finally, the deepest and most heartfelt thanks goes out to my husband, Chuck. Eternally supportive, patient, and always ready to give me a shove when I get stuck, I wouldn't know what to do without him. Without his encouragement, this monster never would have come to be. I am a very lucky woman, and believe me, I know it.

And with that, I think I've said enough. So now I offer you the latest installment in the on-going "Jealousy Saga". I hope you enjoy the ride . . .

  
  


**

Firezone 

**

by

**Debbie Kluge**

  
  


Prologue

  


Mid-December

Unnamed desert somewhere in the Southwest

  


Darkness receded slowly before the creeping light of dawn. Gradually, the increasing brightness began to illuminate a desolate landscape. Sand and barren ground stretched on in every direction, broken only by the occasional, twisted, sun-seared saltbush and random piles of rocks and boulders. Finally, on the distant horizon, this desolation blended into a wall of mountains. They circled and hemmed the place like the walls of an impenetrable fortress, keeping enemies out . . . or in.

At random intervals, small mountain ranges rose within this huge basin, thrusting their way toward the sky as though defying the low-lying land around them. Some looked weary, rounded and slumped, as though time had defeated them and they were no longer possessed with the strength to reach for the sky. Others jutted defiantly upward, ragged and sharp, as if attempting to cut the sky above them to ribbons. At their feet, the ground's uneven surface was cut by shallow gullies where water had once run down to the shores of an ancient, shallow sea. Salt and alkali showed along the edges of the gullies, forming cancerous patches of white that grew larger and larger as the land fell gently away, until they seemed to fuse together into the huge, white floor of a dried lake bed at the center of this vast bowl.

The stillness was absolute. Time seemed to hang suspended. Then, as the darkness gradually receded from this harsh world, the very ground itself seemed to breathe. Slowly . . . gently, the wind stirred. At first, it was almost imperceptible; just the barest hint of movement. Once . . . twice . . . three times . . . and each time the stillness returned, as though this land didn't wish to wake from it's slumber to face the coming day. Finally, the wind picked up and began to blow steadily. And on it's currents came something else . . . sound.

It broke the unnatural silence, sounding ominous and out of place . . . a low, steady growl which grew rapidly until it became ear-shattering thunder in the early morning dawn. Abruptly, one of the piles of boulders at the edge of the dry lakebed stirred. It stumbled and rose, resolving itself into a man. He was unkempt . . . dirty and ragged. The remnants of what appeared to be an old uniform hung from his wasted body. He started as the waves of sound bore down on him. Wildly, he looked around but there was nothing to be seen. Still, the sound increased in volume.

Then, from around the base of one of the isolated mountain ranges, a flash of silver appeared. The man froze, staring intently as the silver object drew closer and revealed itself to be a vehicle of some sort. It's movements were uneven . . . rumbling along sluggishly, only to jerk to a halt for no apparent reason. It would sit for a few seconds and then start forward again with an abruptness that sent dirt and sand rising in a cloud around it. The man stared like a wild thing that has been hunted to the edge of endurance. Finally, in panic, he bolted out onto the dry lakebed, running pell-mell across its flat, hard surface, as though dodging unseen obstacles.

Abruptly, a brilliant flash of light cut through the clear morning air. It stabbed outward like a lance from the moving object, striking the place where the ragged man had stood just moments before. A violent explosion erupted as the lance struck the ground, leaving a gaping hole singed with black. The reek of ozone filled the air. Three more times, that light lashed out, following the erratic path of the frantically fleeing man . . . always seeming to strike just a fraction of a second too late. Finally, as though zeroing in for the kill, a last flash of light hit the man squarely. When the smoke and dust from the explosion had cleared, nothing remained but the same desolate emptiness and a stench of burned flesh.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


**Scientific lab and monitoring sight  
Unspecified location**

  


Hundreds of miles away, a man in a black uniform turned away in dissatisfaction. He flushed a dark red as he glared at the three men cowering in front of him. "Unacceptable!" he thundered. All three men flinched.

Hesitantly, one of them finally offered, "The weapon appears to work as represented, sir. It seems only to be the targeting that is causing a problem."

The man turned away and began to pace, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Imperceptibly, the three men relaxed. His white skin and hair made a striking contrast to the austere, black uniform he wore. "Unacceptable!" he repeated in ominous tones. "It must be accurate on the first strike. And it is too slow and erratic. It must move more fluidly and be more responsive."

"We could try to incorporate some form of on-board processing system," another one of them volunteered.

"No," the first man objected, "it would be too cumbersome. The speed and memory required would make the design unworkable. Not to mention the power demands. And you would have to increase the size of the machine too dramatically."

Frustrated, the second man replied without thinking. "There is just no good way of doing this," 

The white-haired man turned back to them. His fury was terrifying. His burning eyes bore into them, and his skin flushed an even darker red. The two men who had been arguing fell back before his fury, the second man beginning to shake in fear. The white-haired man followed them, step by slow step, shouting, "I do not pay you to tell me there is no way to do what I want! I want this weapon to work. It _will_ work. And if you cannot make it do so, I will find someone who can!"

"But, Mr. Baxter, you are asking for a mobile weapon system that is totally unmanned, small and maneuverable, and yet as responsive as though a man were guiding it! The technology for that kind of fine and instantaneous control simply doesn't exist yet!"

The man named Baxter was on the verge of explosion when the third man finally spoke. His voice was cold and calculating, and stopped all of them short. "There is a way . . ."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


**Pentagon  
Washington, D.C.**

  


The almost-blinding flash of light faded away slowly as the room lights brightened. For a long time, the five men sitting around the large table were silent, absorbing the implications of what they had just seen. This was a strategy meeting designed to inform the highest levels of government of the potential threat looming on the horizon. The meeting brought some of the sharpest minds in the government together.

At the foot of the massive conference table, Admiral Charles Bennett sat back in his chair, fingers steepled, and calmly observed the men surrounding him. He smirked to himself. _There's certainly truth in the old saying, 'Politics makes strange bedfellows'._

Bennett was a Navy commander who had risen in the ranks of the military through distinguished service for almost 30 years. His promotion to Commander of U.S. Military Forces had come about three years before, when General Tyler, his predecessor, had suffered a nervous breakdown after seeing "little green men" and had retired. Only five people knew the truth about that incident . . . and Admiral Bennett was one of them.

Next to him sat Commander Ethan Barclay. A lean black man about 45 years-of-age, Commander Barclay served as the Director of Intelligence and Covert Operations. Admiral Bennett had known Ethan ever since boot camp and had been impressed with the man from the beginning. Bennett's decision to promote Ethan to his old position over several men of longer tenure had created quite a stir. But time had proven him right; Ethan Barclay was the right man for the job. He was the sort of person that made you look twice . . . quiet authority tinged with an edge of danger. In dealing with him, you always had the sense that he was sizing up an adversary . . . and somehow you always came off second best. There was a sense of presence about him that was somehow unique. In addition, he commanded respect from his men. He stood behind them and supported their actions and they knew it. But he also knew where to draw the line and would not hesitate to take his personnel to task when necessary. Admiral Bennett turned toward the man Commander Barclay had brought with him this morning and secretly hoped that Barclay was strong enough to control this particular man.

Connor Leeds had a reputation within the Intelligence Service. His parents were poor, hard-working Irish immigrants who never seemed to be able to get ahead. Leeds was born and bred in Hell's Kitchen in New York, growing up in the welfare hotels and streets, dodging hookers, crack dealers, and junkies. Leeds and his family had stayed together tenaciously until the day Leeds' parents had turned up in a dumpster, each with a single bullet in the back of the skull. A Mob-style hit. Leeds was sixteen at the time and rumored to be an errand boy for the 'Westies', the Irish Mob. No one ever found out what actually happened, but about two days after Leeds' parents were found, one of the primary assassins and two of the enforcers for the Westies were found in the same dumpster. And three days after that, Leeds had joined the Army, lying about his age. It was said that he joined the service knowing that he wanted to be in the intelligence division and had worked with that goal in mind from the beginning. His black hair, dark blue eyes, handsome face, and charming personality masked an inner man that was ruthless and determined. Nothing seemed capable of standing in the way of what he wanted. His service record was brilliant, showing success after success . . . but closer inspection showed those successes to be littered with the dead bodies of the men assigned to his teams. Admiral Bennett had been privately concerned when he heard that Leeds had been in charge of this operation, and judging by the tape he had just seen, there appeared to be reason for that concern.

Across the table from Leeds sat Isaac Wolenchek. A small, rumpled man with a perpetually distracted look, he was the image of the head-in-the-clouds scientist. And the image was accurate . . . up to a point. Dr. Wolenchek was the government's Director of Research and Applications. He was a theoretical mathematician by training, and a brilliant research scientist. But he also had an uncanny ability to assess scientific discoveries in almost any field with unerring accuracy, and to turn those applications to practical use. To Admiral Bennett's knowledge, there was only one man in the world who was better at this . . . and he had consistently refused to accept Dr. Wolenchek's position with the government. No, Benton Quest was unlikely to become involved full-time with the military machine.

"Where did we get this?" Admiral Bennett turned his attention to the man at the head of the table . . . the man who was, in reality, the reason for this meeting. George Niemeyer was a somewhat plain man, nondescript in a way that was hard to put your finger on. Turn away from him and you would be hard-pressed to be able to give an accurate description of him. But that did not make him any less powerful. As White House Chief of Staff, he had the direct ear of the president. The politics of Washington were such that if you wanted to make the President aware of something, and yet keep his involvement hidden, George Niemeyer was the man you went to. And that was the purpose of today's meeting.

Commander Barclay flicked a glance at Leeds, who nodded an acknowledgement and replied, "This was transmitted to us via one of our informants in Baxter's organization. The incident shown occurred yesterday morning."

Niemeyer stared thoughtfully at each of the men around the table and then said, "Who is this man, Baxter? And what is the significance of this piece of tape?"

"Richard Elias Baxter," Commander Barclay replied as a picture flashed up on the screen at the front of the room. It showed a tall, thin man with snow-white hair and pale skin. " . . . international financier and head of Elias International, Ltd., a multi-national conglomerate with interests in everything from gold mining in Brazil to yak farming in Tibet. A recluse of the first order. This picture is estimated to be about 25 years old and is one of only a very few in existence. It was taken when he was still a graduate student at Cambridge." The scene on the monitor changed abruptly. The next shot showed an older man in a long black coat with a hat pulled low over his face, entering what appeared to be a hotel. He was standing in the shade near the entrance looking back over his shoulder. The picture was poor and there was a sense about it that said the man was trying to be inconspicuous.

Leeds picked up the narrative. "About ten years ago, rumors began circulating in the intelligence community about a new 'player' in the international weapons market. Spoken of only in whispers, this man was said to be extremely wealthy and powerful. For a long time, most of the intelligence agencies were convinced he was a myth. No one could ever get a line on him." Leeds smiled grimly. "We called him 'Kaiser Soze' . . . the mythical bogey man of the weapons trade."

"Until Halfaya Pass," Admiral Bennett said, staring thoughtfully at Leeds.

Leeds' smile disappeared abruptly. "Yes," was his stiff reply.

There had always been rumors about the episode in Halfaya Pass. A routine mission gone sour. That in itself wasn't so unusual, but this one had been particularly nasty. Casualties had been extremely high . . . only two men left alive out of the twelve men that went in . . . on what should have been a simple recon mission in North Africa. And the political ramifications had been unpleasant as well. The operation had been a covert one, initiated as the result of an under-the-table request by the U.N. Secretary General to investigate rumors that a faction of a militant terrorist group was brokering illegal arms sales to finance their activities. This organization was rumored to be headed by a mystery man who was planning something 'big'. In original concept, it had been a two-man recon job that had escalated into disaster. Needless to say, when it had blown up the Secretary General had publicly denounced the operation and the two men still alive had ended up taking the heat. Leeds, the junior man on the team, had received a written reprimand and had been sent back into the field as a junior operative. The promotion that had been in the works had been scrubbed. And the man in charge of the mission . . .

Bennett sighed to himself. No one knew what actually occurred that night in Halfaya Pass. Neither man would say. But it had largely been the end for Race Bannon. While not formally demoted, he had been shipped off to the Quests for a baby-sitting job. It was supposed to be the penalty Bannon had to pay for bad judgment. But Bennett knew that whatever had happened that night was not of Race Bannon's doing. No, that botched operation had Leeds' stamp all over it. It was funny, Bennett mused as he sat staring at Leeds, how you could never quite anticipate the end result of decisions. Many of Bennett's people at I-1 had argued strongly against assigning Bannon to the Quest detail. They felt that the duty was a slap in the face to a man of Bannon's experience and service. But the Higher Powers That Be were determined that someone would take the blame for the incident, and Bannon had been it. They had pointed out to Bannon that there would be no formal charges filed, and the written letter of reprimand and boring duty would serve to pacify the people out for blood over the incident. To everyone's surprise, Bennett had supported the assignment, but for his own private reasons. He was all too aware that Bannon was stretched to the breaking point. He was exhausted and some internal demon was driving him relentlessly. Bennett had hoped that the "babysitting job" would provide Bannon with the opportunity to relax a little. What no one had anticipated was that the already discontent Race Bannon would find a place for himself in the Quest organization . . . would become part of their family, as it were . . . and tell the government to shove it. They had lost one of the best men the organization had ever had over the Halfaya Pass incident, and Bennett hadn't trusted Leeds ever since.

Leeds shifted uncomfortably and after a moment he continued, "There was only one thing we knew. After the incident in Africa, the man and his organization went to ground. He bought, but he didn't sell. He was always in the market for new technology . . . nothing but state-of-the-art . . . and he would pay top dollar. But he wanted it in the development stage. If it was for sale in manufactured form, then he wasn't interested.

"This picture," Leeds said, nodding at the screen, "was taken about seven months ago outside the Corinthia San Gorg Hotel in Malta." The screen flashed again and displayed a close-up shot of the man. The picture had obviously been taken from a long distance using a telephoto lens. It was somewhat grainy and a bit fuzzy around the edges, but it was clearly identifiable as Baxter.

"By this time, there was enough in the way of rumors about the man for us to be concerned," Barclay added.

"This concern was fueled by a separate incident that occurred in the Grants and Government Contracts Division at roughly the same time," Dr. Wolenchek stated, joining in the narrative. "Ten months ago, the Grant Review Board, of which I am a member, was approached with a funding proposal for a new weapons system. It was small, mobile, heavily armed, instantly responsive, and . . . most interesting of all . . . totally unmanned."

Niemeyer looked at him sharply. "You mean it was like a guided missile or a pre-programmed weapon?"

Wolenchek shook his head. "No. Nothing so crude. This one was fully interactive with a live operator. It was capable of responding to an operator's commands almost instantaneously and with seamless precision. But it was controlled remotely, ensuring that the operator would remain safe during an attack. And, most importantly, if the weapon was damaged or destroyed on the field of battle, the operator simply moved his connection to a new unit and he could be as deadly and effective almost immediately." Wolenchek paused, thinking about it for a moment, then smiled wryly. "Think of Robo-cop without the live individual in the suit."

"But how is this possible?" Niemeyer objected sharply. "My understanding is that there is no programming in existence capable of being that precise or interactive.

"It is not done via standard programming," Wolenchek replied calmly. "It was done using VR."

"VR? You mean virtual reality? Like in video games?" Niemeyer asked, confused.

Wolenchek simply nodded. "Also roughly similar to the simulations the military currently use for training purposes. When the creator approached us with the plans, he still had a number of major problems with the design. He was seeking funding to continue the development. The funding proposal asked for money to complete the development and build a prototype."

"So what happened?" Niemeyer demanded. "What state is his research in now?"

Wolenchek shook his head regretfully. "I can't say. The Review Board chose to deny his request for funding."

"Why?" Bennett asked. "I know we weren't involved in the research but I didn't realize the creator had _tried_ to get government funding."

"There were a number of reasons," Wolenchek replied. "For one thing, the political climate at the time wasn't favorable to funding weapons research. The fiasco with General Tyler and his accusation that the vice president was a "little green man" made everyone a bit edgy," he pointed out dryly. "There were a number of Board members who argued that funding weapons research at that time was political suicide. Also, there were a number of things in the design of the system that certain Board members felt were insurmountable. The general consensus was that he would never make the thing work."

"Did you agree, Isaac?" Niemeyer asked the man quietly.

Wolenchek was silent for a long moment. Finally, he replied heavily, "No, I didn't. I was fairly certain that he could make it work. I voted to fund the project, mainly to put us in a position to monitor the research. I was concerned that the very nature of the weapon would make it a national security risk if it were to be developed to operational form. Unfortunately, my colleagues didn't agree."

"And you're certain this is the same weapon," Niemeyer asked.

Wolenchek nodded. "Without question. You can tell that it still has some flaws, but this is a working prototype of the designs we saw.

"You said there were some problems with the designs that your colleagues felt were insurmountable," Admiral Bennett commented. "What were those problems, Doctor? And can you tell from this if they have overcome them?"

"There are at least two they are still having problems with," Dr. Wolenchek said, gesturing for the remote control to the video system. Leeds handed it to him and Wolenchek triggered the rewind function. After a few seconds, he stopped the system and kicked it into play. The five men watched in silence as the ragged man ran desperately across the lake bed in a zigzagging pattern until he was again enveloped in that brilliant flash of light. "Did you see how the weapon seemed to strike late? There's a communication lag between the weapon and the operator. The further away the operator is, the more lag time you have to deal with. And if the signal is broadcast via something like radio waves, the potential for interrupt or signal degradation makes the system unreliable. Also, there is the issue of cybersickness to deal with."

"Cybersickness?" Niemeyer asked, confused.

"It is a variant form of common motion sickness caused by the individual's perception of the VR environment," Wolenchek replied. "Even with the best system, there is a lag time, which is perceptible to the user. This lag tends to disrupt the inner ear. Also, there is some question of how extensive the effect of electromagnetic fields involved in VR generation is on the user. Prolonged activity in VR causes negative effects on the visual, neural, and psychological health of the individual. Symptoms can be as common as nausea or as severe as neural disruption. There is a condition known as "flicker vertigo" that is prevalent in heavy users of VR. Patients suffer brief seizures when a flickering light is observed, causing a brief loss of attention. While the medical research is incomplete, there is very strong evidence that prolonged exposure causes a marked increase of these symptoms. I suspect the erratic movements of the weapon are due to the operator suffering from a severe case of cybersickness.

"So it's a long way from being truly deadly," Niemeyer said in obvious relief. "Can we find a way to bring the weapon and its creator into our sphere of influence where the technology and its use is controllable?"

Barclay shook his head regretfully. "I'm afraid not. Dr. Payson died under mysterious circumstances three months ago. It seems apparent now that the system was sold to . . . or taken by . . . Baxter, who is attempting to complete its development."

"But from what you say, he is going to have a very difficult time completing that. With the creator dead and the problems you describe plaguing him. It's doubtful he'll get it functional before we can stop him. The technology to make this work doesn't exist yet, is that correct?"

"No, it doesn't," Barclay replied as Leeds and Wolenchek shook their heads. But Admiral Bennett sat stock still, staring into space. He was remembering a trip to Quest Compound in Maine about a year before. He was there to discuss a former agency employee with Race Bannon. They had been in the lighthouse where Bannon had been working on upgrading the security system. As they went to leave, they descended the stairs and a lab had opened on one of the levels. As he looked in he saw Dr. Quest's two sons and Bannon's daughter. The elder boy was working at a computer console. On a monitor in front of him were displayed two state-of-the-art fighter jets, which appeared to be moving at a very high rate of speed. Quest's younger son and Bannon's daughter were seated in heavily padded contour chairs and each wore some type of headset which appeared to generate a brilliant bar of green light that encompassed their eyes like a pair of glasses. Both kids were riveted, their attention tightly focused on the gleaming bar of light. As he glanced in the lab, he heard the girl say,

"Okay, Hadji, we're all set. What's on the schedule for today?"

"We are clearing archived records today, Jessie. We have about ten gigabytes of old material that is due to be purged," the boy at the computer console replied.

Bennett heard the younger boy whistle and say, "That much, huh? Well, we'd better get started, then. I've got first strike, Jess."

"Go for it, Jonny," the girl agreed. "I'll follow you in." Bennett caught the movement on the monitor screen as the two jets rolled in a neatly coordinated move and sped toward a glowing globe, firing their weapons.

Bennett stared in fascination and started to move into the lab, asking, "What is that?"

Bannon had caught his arm and gently, but firmly, drew him back toward the stairs. "Oh, that's just the kids' idea of work. Come on, I'll escort you back to the car."

As they exited the lighthouse, Bennett had asked insistently, "But what was it? I've never seen anything like those planes!"

Bannon had laughed easily. "The planes? Those were Jonny's idea of the next generation of fighter plane. I actually think that was a games program that Hadji wrote for Jessie and Jonny."

"But how does it work? And what are those headsets? And . . ."

"Now, Admiral. You know I don't know anything about that stuff. I leave that to Benton and the kids."

Admiral Bennett snorted softly to himself again, just as he had done to Bannon's comment a year ago. It was one of the things that had made Bannon so good as an agent. His opponents would see the handsome face, white blonde hair, blue eyes, guileless smile and hear that subtle Texas drawl, and would dismiss him as some kind of yokel. Nothing could be further from the truth. That innocent demeanor disguised a mind like a steel trap and responses that could be lightning-fast and deadly when the situation warranted it. Enemies only underestimated Race Bannon once . . . they didn't get a second chance.

As Bennett sat staring into empty space, reliving that scene again in his mind's eye, he could feel his blood run cold. If he was right about what he suspected, they could all be in a great deal of trouble.

"Admiral Bennett?" Ethan Barclay's quiet voice broke into his reverie, causing Bennett to focus on the four men staring at him in concern.

"I think we need to talk with Benton Quest," Bennett said slowly. "And I think it needs to be done as quickly as possible."

Wolenchek sat forward, as Niemeyer asked sharply, "Why? This needs to be kept as quiet as possible. Bringing in an outside agent like Quest is dangerous."

Bennett was about to respond when he caught sight of Barclay's face. It wore the look of a man bringing a group of random events together, studying them, and coming to a conclusion he didn't like. "Ethan?" Bennett questioned softly. Barclay was silent and, as the two men's eyes locked, Bennett knew he had been right . . . they were in trouble. "What do you know?"

Barclay shook his head. 'I don't _know_ anything," he replied. "But there was an incident . . ."

"Involving Quest?" Niemeyer questioned even more sharply.

Barclay nodded once. "It was several years ago . . . before you joined the president's staff, Mr. Niemeyer. The episode was kept very quiet, but looking back on it now, I think it may have some significance on our current situation."

"So what happened?" Niemeyer asked impatiently.

"The president's plane was hijacked . . . with him aboard." Niemeyer uttered an incoherent sound of disbelief as Barclay continued, "All the evidence indicated that Benton Quest and his family were at the heart of a terrorist attack to further some private agenda. There were videotapes of terrorist demands, evidence whose trail led back to the main research compound in Maine, and a number of other things that pointed directly at the Quests."

"I _knew_ it!" Niemeyer exclaimed. "The man is dangerous . . . a security risk!"

"Preposterous!" Wolenchek cut across Niemeyer hotly. "I know Dr. Quest personally. He is _not_ a traitor."

Through the raised voices and hubbub, Bennett demanded, "Why didn't I know anything about this?"

"The situation was dealt with quickly and quietly," Barclay responded, his strong, even voice effectively stilling the tumult around the table. "Quest was set up and it was with his help that the situation was resolved." Barclay suddenly grinned at Bennett. "Or, to be more precise, it was resolved with the assistance of Quest and Bannon's _kids_."

Bennett returned the grin, knowing exactly how Barclay was feeling. Bennett always felt a bit overwhelmed around those three teenagers. They seemed capable of out-thinking almost anyone. And they weren't afraid to act if the situation appeared to warrant it, either. _A legacy of being influenced by Race Bannon, no doubt,_ Bennett mused, ruefully.

"Well, if Quest wasn't responsible, then who was?" Niemeyer asked, his doubt clear.

"A man named Jeremiah Surd," Barclay replied.

"Oh, that figures," Wolenchek responded disgustedly. "Surd hates the Quest family. I'm not surprised he would set something like this up and try and make the Quests take the fall."

"But . . ." Niemeyer began to protest, but Bennett cut him off.

"Surd's actions weren't the issue, though, were they, Ethan?"

"Not precisely. It's the _method_ that Surd used to hijack the plane. He pirated a computer program onboard that allowed him to take over and pilot the plane remotely. It was the same way the Quest boy was able to take control of the plane from Surd and land it safely. Dr. Quest was rather vague about how the system worked, but he did say it was a variant of the simulator technology the government is currently using for training purposes.

"Definitely a VR application! How did it work?" Wolenchek asked eagerly.

Barclay shook his head regretfully. "I don't really know. I saw the boy use some type of glowing headset. And he seemed capable of maneuvering the airplane through whatever program Surd had installed in the plane. But how it worked is a complete mystery."

"Did he appear disoriented at all?"

"No," Barclay replied definitively. "He was fine, both during the operation and when he finished. He simply rose, took off the headset, and acted as if nothing unusual had occurred."

"Fully immersive VR," Wolenchek breathed in wonder. "Quest has done it! It's incredible . . ."

"Something this dangerous has no business in Quest's hands," Niemeyer insisted. "I tell you, the man is dangerous!"

Wolenchek snorted derisively, "The safest place for it is in Benton Quest's hands. Questioning the man's integrity or his loyalties is ludicrous. The _reason_ the man won't work for the government is because he refuses to allow his work to be used for military purposes. And he has consistently assisted us when we have needed his help."

"Perhaps this isn't Quest's work," Leeds ventured for the first time. "Maybe the innovation is Surd's."

Wolenchek shook his head. "No, Jeremiah may be good at a lot of things, but the innovations needed to make this work aren't his strong points. But they _are_ Benton Quest's. No . . . Quest invented this one. I have no doubt of it. And Surd pirated it." The silence that followed that statement was ominous.

"So if Baxter needs someone to make this system work, he would probably go for Surd," Niemeyer finally commented.

Barclay shook his head. "It would do him no good. Surd's last run-in with the Quests left his entire organization destroyed and all the lead players in jail."

"The altercation left Surd all but catatonic, as well." Wolenchek added. "Even if someone could break him out, he's in no shape to help them."

"You mean he's brain dead?" Niemeyer demanded.

"No," Wolenchek responded. "His brain is fully active, but it's as though he is locked into a portion of his mind that doesn't allow for interaction with his surroundings." The scientist shrugged. "The doctors are baffled."

"So that just leaves Quest . . ." Leeds mused, trailing off into thought.

". . . which makes him a prime target," Bennett finished for the younger man.

Niemeyer frowned darkly but reluctantly agreed. "Alright. I don't like it, but contact Quest. See if he will work on this with us."

"We'll also put surveillance on the Maine compou--," Bennett began.

But Niemeyer cut him off sharply. "No! Leave it alone. Also, don't tell Quest about the new weapon system. The less he knows about this, the better."

"But . . ." Bennett began to protest.

"NO!" Niemeyer said forcefully. "I still don't trust the man. He has too much influence and money, and he operates too far out of the government's control. Maybe he is as benign as you all think. But if he isn't, I don't want to give him any ideas. I don't care what cover story you invent, just don't tell him about that new weapon system." He paused and stared at each man in turn. "Furthermore, if the man is a natural target, I'm sure you gentlemen can find a way to use that situation to our advantage." Niemeyer rose and began gathering up the papers in front of him. "Keep me informed, gentlemen. I'll expect regular updates." Then he turned and walked out of the room.

Bennett sighed and rose, saying, "I'll set up a meeting with Dr. Quest."

"What are you going to tell him?" Barclay asked.

"I have no idea," Bennett replied heavily. "Anything but the truth, I suppose."

"I have a very bad feeling about this," Wolenchek said to no one in particular, as the four men exited the room.

Admiral Bennett couldn't have agreed more.


	2. Chapter 1 Thursday, December 16

**

****Chapter 1**

  


Thursday, December 16

  
  


Main House  
Quest Compound  
Rockport, Maine

  


Jonny Quest looked up from his book and watched as his adopted brother, Hadji Singh, walked into the family room in the main house of Quest Compound. Nearby, Jonny's girlfriend, Jessie Bannon, sat cross-legged on the floor playing solitaire. Occasionally, she would reach out and shove Bandit, the family's dog, out of the way as he attempted to sidle over and lie on her cards. Jonny watched with veiled amusement as Hadji crossed the room and settled into his father's big reading chair near the windows. Silently, Jonny began to count to himself, being careful not to let Hadji know he was being watched. Before Jonny reached 20, Hadji rose and walked across the room to stir the logs in the big fireplace. He fussed with them briefly, then returned to his chair. Reaching out, he picked up a large book sitting on the nearby table and opened it. Jonny began counting again. At the count of eleven, Hadji set the book down and rose again. He crossed the room and sat down at the computer terminal. Jessie glanced up at Hadji and then exchanged an amused look with Jonny before returning to her solitaire game. Abruptly, Hadji rose from the computer and turned to return to his chair. He stared suspiciously at the bowed heads of his two closest friends, but both appeared to be totally absorbed in what they were doing. After a moment, he walked back across the room and sat down again. Picking up a magazine, he began to leaf through it blindly. Two minutes later he rose again and walked to the windows to stare out across the lawn.

"Why don't you go ahead and go?" Jonny finally asked him.

Hadji jumped noticeably. "What?"

Jessie looked up at him and laughed. "Just leave. It's a long drive to New York, and you're going absolutely nuts hanging around here."

Hadji sighed. "It is that obvious?"

Jonny and Jessie both erupted into laughter. "Yes, it's that obvious," Jessie assured him.

Jonny just grinned. "You've been restless all week, but today has been really bad. You haven't stayed involved with anything for more than five minutes at a time. After a few minutes you get this vacant look and just wander off."

"It is not _that_ bad!" Hadji exclaimed. His two friends just sat, grinning back at him, without a word. ". . . is it?" Hadji glared at them as they both collapsed into mirth again.

After a moment, Jessie rose from the floor and came to put an arm around her friend companionably. "Hey, Hadji, it's okay. We understand. It's really rough to be separated."

"Yeah," Jonny seconded, joining them. "I don't think there's anything harder."

"Yes. I am coming to understand that. But what if Kefira has changed her mind since I left Bangalore? Decided she does not want to come here to school? Or to marry me? Or . . . " Hadji trailed off miserably.

Jessie and Jonny looked at their friend in astonishment. This didn't sound like Hadji at all. Jessie looked at Jonny in concern, only to see him starting to grin widely. _Been there, done that,_ Jonny thought to himself as he clapped Hadji soundly on the shoulder and said, "Hey, come here . . ." Jonny led his brother and best friend over to the sofa and all three of them sat down.

"Hadji, I know what you're saying," Jonny said to him, his grin fading to be replaced with a serious expression. "When you first realize that you've found the girl you want to spend your life with, it's really scary. You doubt yourself. You question everything you do and everything you say. You can't seem to do anything right. And you can go from being blissfully happy to bleakly depressed almost as quickly at it takes to turn around. I know . . . I've been there. And it sucks! But you have to trust in yourself and believe what she tells you. You can't try and second-guess her. You'll drive yourself crazy." Jonny grinned ruefully. "Just ask me how crazy you can make yourself." Hadji chuckled weakly.

"Furthermore," Jessie joined in, taking Hadji's hand, "you already know she's coming. You told us two days ago that Kefira and her father had left for the trip here. I can't believe that she would travel all this way simply to tell you to get lost."

Hadji sighed. "But you do not understand, my friends. It is so much more than just the two of us. I could convince myself, if it was just she and I. But if she does marry me, she also has to take on the entire country of Bangalore. That is a great deal of ask of anyone." He sighed again, staring at his lap blindly. "And that is not all."

"What else, then," Jessie urged him softly when Hadji didn't continue. She squeezed his hand gently and was rewarded by a lightening quick glance filled with indecision and unhappiness before his gaze returned to it's fixed, downward stare.

"Even if she does marry me . . . " and he stopped again. Jessie and Jonny waited silently, giving Hadji time to try to put into words what he was feeling. Finally, he sighed and lifted his head, "If she does marry me, I may never know if she did so because it was what she really wanted, or if it was because she felt it was her 'obligation' to do so."

All three of them were silent for a time, as Jessie and Jonny struggled to absorb that. Finally, Jonny asked, "Have you told her she doesn't have to accept your proposal? That it is her choice?"

"Yes. Several times." There was a slightly bitter tone to his voice as he added, "But I have no doubt that in my absence, my mother has been involving herself in this matter."

"Involving herself in what way?" Jessie asked.

"Putting pressure on Kefira. And Rajeev as well, probably. To move up the wedding . . . to prevent Kefira from coming to the U.S. to school . . . to give up her plans for becoming an engineer . . . to conform . . ."

Jonny didn't know what to say. But Jessie did. She laughed softly and said, "Hadji, from what you have told us about Kefira, she is more than a match for your mother. You've told her she doesn't have to marry you, and you have been honest with her, right?"

Hadji nodded. "As honest as I know how to be. There is much I do not know, though."

Jessie shrugged and replied, "Then you've done all you can do. Give her time to get to know you and to understand the magnitude of the future she's facing. And then let her make the choice. Aside from it being the only thing you _can_ do, it is also the _**right**_ thing to do."

"And you know what else?" Jonny asked Hadji, grinning.

Hadji eyed his brother warily, wondering what final shot Jonny was getting ready to deliver. "What?"

"_She_ probably knows more about running that country than _you_ do!"

Hadji stared at him for a minute before his mouth curved in a smile. "You are probably right, my friend." He straightened and began to laugh ruefully, "In fact, I am sure you are right."

Laughing, Jessie asked, "So are you going to go ahead and leave for New York?"

Hadji shook his head. "No, I will wait until tomorrow as I planned. If I am going to wander around in a vacant daze, I am safer doing it here than on the streets of New York. Her plane does not get in until late Saturday afternoon. I will leave mid-morning tomorrow, spend the rest of the day making the drive down to the city, and still have most of the daylight hours on Saturday to run Father's errands before they arrive."

"Sounds like a plan," Jonny agreed. "What do you say we do something productive to kill time. Jess has the final details for Race and Estella's wedding that need to be taken care of, and she wanted to do some running around this afternoon. I told her I'd play chauffeur. Why don't you come along?"

"Yeah," Jessie urged. "I can use all the help I can get. Usually, it's a mother who plans her daughter's wedding. I'm feeling a little odd, doing it the other way around."

"I have to admit, I have not been paying much attention," Hadji said, looking embarrassed. "What are the plans?"

"It's not going to be a real big affair . . . only about 20-25 guests," Jessie replied. "The wedding will be at St. Margaret's in Camden, and then there'll be a reception/party at the Phenix Inn in Bangor." She sighed as she considered the reception. "I had really hoped to find someplace that was big enough to have a dance floor, but I'm just not having any luck. Everyplace that is big enough is already booked for the holidays. I was lucky that the Dawsons could handle it at all. And this will be nice. The Dawsons decorate so beautifully and we can have a small band for music."

"Why not just have it here?" Jonny asked. "We have more than enough room to set up a dance floor."

Jessie shook her head. "No, that's not a good idea. For one thing, Dad would be all distracted, having to worry about Compound security. And Mom would have a fit if a bunch of government agent-types showed up at her wedding. We've also got our Christmas party here the following Wednesday, and I don't think it's fair to ask Mrs. Evans to try to deal with two major functions in less than a week. Furthermore, I want the reception somewhere that's a bit more accessible. If we have bad weather, having it here will make it difficult for people to attend. And the reception is really being held so the local people who aren't invited to the wedding can come wish Dad well." Jessie looked at her companions with something of a bemused look. "I've been surprised by the number of people who seem really disappointed not to be invited. Dad has more friends here than I realized."

Both Jonny and Hadji laughed. "That surprises you?" Jonny asked, teasingly. In a more serious voice, he continued, "Let's face it, Jess. He's helped an awful lot of people since he's come to live with us. He's always headed up the search and rescue squad for the area. And he teaches first aid and emergency training classes for all the surrounding communities."

"And do not forget," Hadji reminded her, "that he also runs karate and tae kwan do classes for kids, and has been known to substitute for both the gym teacher and the swimming instructor at the high school. He is involved with a lot of things, particularly when you consider how frequently we are gone."

"You're right," Jessie agreed with a laugh. "I guess I just never thought about it much." She rose and crossed to the computer console on the other side of the room. She picked up a notebook from the desk and returned to the sofa. "I still need to check on the church and make sure everything is set there, take the sheet music to the pianist for the wedding, let the minister know that Mom and Dad have decided to write their own vows, confirm the time with him, give the florist the final specifications for the flowers, make arrangement for the delivery of the flowers to both the church and the hotel, call and make sure that Grampa Doug is gonna be here, confirm the hotel reservations for Aunt Victoria and Uncle Jorge, check with the last of the guests who haven't RSVPed, finalize the menu with the caterer and give them a headcount, check with the hotel staff about the setup of the tables for the dinner, talk to the Lowells about doing the decorating of the dinner tables and the room for the reception, confirm and pay the band, and pick up Mom's dress. Oh, and drag Jonny in for the final fitting for his tux."

Hadji stared at her, dumbfounded, as Jonny complained, "I still don't see why I have to wear a tux. I have a perfectly good navy blue suit that I've worn exactly once."

"You have to wear a tux because all the men in the wedding party are wearing a tux, and you are in the wedding party," Jessie replied, without even looking up from her list. Belatedly, Hadji realized that this was probably an on-going argument.

"But . . ." Hadji started, but then stopped. Jessie looked up at him sharply. Hastily, he said, "What am I to wear?"

Jessie looked at him strangely. "I figured you'd want to wear your formal wear from Bangalore . . ."

_**"NO!"**_ he snapped harshly, without thought. Jessie stared at him in stunned surprise. After a moment, Hadji added lamely, "It would not match. I have a tuxedo. I can wear that."

After a long moment, Jessie finally said, "Yeah. That'll be fine. Thanks, Hadji." She turned her attention to her list again and allowed the episode to pass.

"I thought you said this was a small wedding," Hadji said tentatively, after a moment.

"It is," Jessie replied absently. She looked up at Hadji suddenly, "Is Kefira's Dad gonna be able to be here for the wedding?"

Hadji shook his head. "No. He has to leave on the 23rd. I talked with him about it, but he says that he has to be back in Bangalore by the 28th for a meeting of his mining foremen. If he stays for the wedding, he would have to fly out on the 25th to make it back in time, and he cannot get a flight before the 27th. And we have no one here to take him home."

Jessie sighed. "That's too bad. It would have been nice if he could have been here." She frowned at her list again. Absently, she said, "I'll need to talk with Kefira as soon as she arrives, too. Since you're gonna be in the wedding party, I need another woman to balance the mix. I hope she'll be willing to take part." Hadji looked over Jessie's head at his brother, startled. Jonny just grinned and shrugged.

"I do not have to be in the wedding party," Hadji told her.

"Yes, you do. Dad says he wants you and Jonny and Dr. Quest to stand up with him."

"Oh," Hadji replied weakly.

Jonny laughed and shook his head at his brother. "Don't even bother to argue, Hadj." He stood and looked down at Jessie, a tolerant smile on his face, "Well, why don't we get started. You've only got seven days to get all this done and we aren't gonna finish it sitting here."

The three of them rose and moved toward the coat closet in the main hallway. Hadji opened the closet door, pulled out coats and passed them around. After putting his on, Jonny reached into his pocket and began fishing for his keys. With car keys in hand, he strode over and reached for the door, saying,

"I'll go get the car and pull it around to the front door."

"I would suggest that you bring around the Blazer," Hadji replied. Jonny looked over his shoulder with a questioning look as he opened the door. "They are predicting snow," Hadji clarified.

"Gotcha! It'll be right . . . OH!" Jonny's comment was cut off as he bumped into someone standing on the front porch. The two of them staggered, catching their balance.

"Whaaa . . ." the visitor exclaimed, startled.

"I'm so sorry!" Jonny said apologetically. "I didn't . . . . Admiral Bennett???"

"It's nice to . . . run into you . . . again, Mr. Quest," Bennett acknowledged dryly.

Jonny flushed slightly and directed an accusatory glance toward the ceiling.

"Hey, IRIS, what's the deal? Why didn't you warn us Admiral Bennett was here?"

IRIS' soft, feminine voice replied primly, "I NOTIFIED YOUR FATHER OF THE ADMIRAL'S ARRIVAL. HE WAS EXPECTED."

"Well, you might have warned _me_!" Jonny replied testily. "I almost mowed him down!"

"IT IS NOT MY FAULT, JONATHAN QUEST, THAT YOU DO NOT WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING," the computer replied in a haughty tone.

Jessie and Hadji exchanged resigned glances.

"He's been fooling with IRIS' programming again, hasn't he," Jessie asked Hadji in disgust.

"I would say so," Hadji agreed. "Although I do not understand why he would want to add rudeness to the program."

"Trying to make IRIS over in his own image?" Jessie suggested with a sly grin.

Jonny turned a mock-injured look on his two friends as he said apologetically, "Please, come in, Admiral Bennett. I'm very sorry. I should have been watching where I was going."

"No harm done," Bennett laughed, stepping in the door.

"IRIS, is Father coming?" Hadji asked as he took Bennett's coat and hung it in the closet.

"HE WILL BE HERE MOMENTARILY," IRIS replied. "HE IS ON HIS WAY FROM THE LIGHTHOUSE."

"May we offer you something, Admiral Bennett?" Jessie asked politely. "I believe there is coffee in the kitchen."

"No, thank you, Ms. Bannon. I'm fine." Glancing at Hadji, Bennett commented conversationally, "By the way, Mr. Singh, I hear that congratulations are in order."

"Sir?" Hadji asked, puzzled.

"I hear you are to be married."

Hadji stiffened sharply and stared at the man, speechless. In the sudden silence, they all heard the back door open and close, and the sound of footsteps crossing the kitchen.

Finally, Hadji replied, "Thank you."

Bennett looked at the young man closely. "I'm sorry. I appear to have touched a sore spot."

Recovering quickly, Hadji relaxed with a laugh, "No, not at all, Admiral. I was just a bit surprised. There has been no formal announcement of the betrothal, as yet. May I ask where you heard about it?"

"From the Indian ambassador. I was at a diplomatic function last week and he had commented that there was a royal wedding being planned in one of the provinces. The way he said it implied that he expected that I would know about it. Naturally, I asked who was getting married and he told me you were. Said he had been notified by the Bangalore ambassador last week."

"I see," Hadji said calmly. But Jessie and Jonny both heard the undercurrent of anger in his voice. "Well, Admiral, I certainly do hope that you will be able to attend when the time comes."

"I'll make it a point to do so," Bennett replied. Looking beyond the three young people, he stepped forward, offering his hand, as he continued, "Ah, Dr. Quest, there you are. I appreciate your willingness to see me on such short notice."

Benton Quest looked at his eldest son sharply as he shook the Admiral's proffered hand and replied, "It's no problem, Admiral. Why don't we go into my study." His gaze took in all three young people as he asked, "You're heading somewhere?"

"Yeah," Jonny replied. "More legwork for Jess."

Benton laughed, watching the three of them walk out the door. "Have fun. And be careful . . ."

"Thank you, Father, we will." Hadji smiled warmly at the older man. "We will be back in time for dinner." But Benton noticed that the door slammed with thinly veiled violence as Hadji shut it. After a brief moment, Benton turned, gesturing to the other man.

"This way, Admiral."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


"So what can I do for you, Admiral?" Benton Quest asked the man sitting across the desk from him.

"I need help, Dr. Quest. The kind of help that only you can provide, I think."

"Well, I'll certainly try to do whatever I can. Why don't you tell me about your problem." 

Admiral Bennett contemplated the man sitting in front of him, and wondered again about the wisdom of what he was about to do. He had never had any reason to question Benton Quest's loyalties. In fact, Quest had proved himself to be reliable more times that Bennett could count. Which made the lies that he was about to tell this man all the harder. Unfortunately, he had been left little choice. Niemeyer had been very specific in his instructions and Bennett simply didn't see how he could ignore them. Steeling himself, Bennett looked Quest straight in the eye and said, 

"You know that the military budget has been cut drastically over the last several years. Those cuts have been across the board and the funding has been handed down in a lump sum. It has then been left to the various branches to find an equitable division of the funds. But even our best efforts at conservation of funds still leaves us short of being able to effectively fund the various branches and ensure that we fulfill the responsibilities we have been charged with."

Benton Quest looked at Bennett quizzically and asked with a touch of humor, "Are you here to ask the Quest Foundation for a grant, Admiral?"

Bennett laughed ruefully. "Don't doubt, Dr. Quest, that I would do it if I thought it would help. But, no, that's not why I'm here. One of our largest expenses every year is the cost of training. Like any other profession, you must practice your skills to ensure that they are sharp when you need them. And the skills needed to fight in the desert are substantially different than the skills needed to fight in a jungle, which makes it necessary to train your men in both environments. But that is a very expensive proposition. More and more, we have come to rely on simulators. In the last several years, we've begun to pool the training budgets for all of the service branches and to use the bulk of the funds to develop training simulations that can be effective for training all of our troops."

Benton Quest leaned forward, concentrating closely on the man in front of him. "I have read in the professional journals that you have begun work with some of the more prominent gaming companies to adapt some of their more popular software as military training simulations."

Bennett sighed. "Yes. It's a good idea with a great deal of potential, but not without its problems."

"And _that's_ why you're here."

"Yes," Bennett nodded. "We need your help with resolving the problems we're having trying to implement the programs."

Benton Quest relaxed back into his chair and smiled at the uniformed man across from him. "So, why don't you tell me about it and I'll see if there is anything I can do."

Bennett shifted, settling more comfortably into his chair, feeling more at ease now that he was past the initial lie. This part of the story, at least, was true. "The simulation programs themselves don't appear to be the problem. The programming is broad-ranging enough to provide a good spectrum of experience and the detail is excellent. But we've encountered a number of problems that seem to relate to the integration of multiple users. We also have serious problems with side effects on the men utilizing the programs. And the longer they use them the worse things get."

"What does Isaac have to say about the problem?"

Bennett gave a snort of disgust. "He started muttering about computers and hardware and networks and all sorts of other mumbo-jumbo, and said I had to make do for about five years or until the hardware industry catches up with the software industry . . . whatever that means!"

Benton laughed. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid he's right, Admiral. In this area, the software development has far outpaced the development of the hardware to support it. And fashioning an interface that will trigger the natural human responses of the senses is exceedingly difficult. The human brain is a remarkable organ. It is an organic computer with a processing speed that is blindingly fast. It also has the ability to multi-task in a manner that no one has ever been able to figure out, let alone duplicate. Think of it in terms of trying to get a very, very old and antiquated computer system to interface and function with a brand new, state-of-the-art one. The principles are the same. And in this case, the interface tends to bring down the state-of-the-art system . . . the human operator."

"And yet, some systems work," Admiral Bennett stated pointedly.

"Some systems work better than others," Benton Quest corrected him. "No simulation is capable of fooling the human mind. Nor is there one able to seamlessly interface with a human operator and provide an experience so perfect that you can't tell the difference between it and real life. Such a system doesn't exist and is a very long way from being possible."

Bennett stared at the man sitting opposite him. "Are you certain of that, Dr. Quest? I was under the impression that you've worked on this problem for quite some time now." Bennett watched as Benton Quest's face grew still and his expression blank.

"Quite certain, Admiral Bennett," Benton replied with conviction. "As you say, I've worked on the problem in recent years and I am very aware of the problems. I assure you, the technology that you are talking about does not exist."

"And yet, the last time I was here, I saw your own son using something that was obviously a fully immersive virtual reality system," Admiral Bennett stated with conviction, his voice cold and hard.

Benton Quest rose abruptly, his voice turning equally cold. "My son plays video games, Admiral Bennett. Both of my sons do. As do I, on occasion. That I have a home computer system that is better than most is also true. That does not mean I have developed a system in my basement that could be used to train military troops for combat. Now, if you will excuse me. I have other things I need to attend to."

For an instant the two men stared at each other, locked in a contest of wills. Finally, Bennett's eyes fell and he sighed heavily. Rising, he said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Quest. I don't mean to be difficult. It is simply that I saw something the last time I was here that was clearly military in nature and I had hoped it could solve some of my problems."

"What was it that you thought you saw, Admiral?" Benton asked in a more friendly tone, gesturing for the man to seat himself again. "Perhaps if I knew that, I would have a better idea of what you're getting at."

Bennett hesitated fractionally, then said, "Your son and Race Bannon's daughter were using some type of military aircraft to strike at a specified target."

Benton Quest began to laugh. "Admiral, what you saw was a commercially available video game that my sons had purchased and modified to operate on the Quest mainframe. As you know, most video games today are written to run on standard home PCs. But my system here is a large research computer, similar to the ones found in the research labs in the Pentagon . . . Crays or Univacs that are programmed in mainframe language. Hadji, in particular, is very good at modifying commercial video games to run on our home system." Benton shrugged. "And I require that both boys, and Jessie Bannon for that matter, spend a certain amount of time _working_ in the lab as part of their education. All three kids have become quite creative in finding entertaining ways to spend that time. I know the episode you're referring to, now. Race mentioned it to me at the time. Jonny and Jessie were assigned to purge archive files from the mainframe for me. They chose to do that by utilizing one of their video game programs to "blow up" the files I wanted disposed." Benton chuckled again. "Not exactly conventional, but effective all the same."

"But what about the headsets I saw?" Bennett objected. "Those weren't conventional either."

"A variation on the same heads-up technology the Air Force and Navy use in their fighter aircraft that allows the pilot to see the instruments and gauge readings right in his line of sight and then focus through them when he doesn't need them," Benton replied patiently.

"Then why don't your kids suffer from the same kind of . . . of . . . cybersickness that our troops do when trying to use the simulators?"

"For the same reason your pilots don't suffer from cybersickness. Their focus is on the specific . . . not on the entire environment around them. They are not trying to take in an entire scene and operate within it. _That_ is what disrupts the senses. And in that area, I'm afraid I can be of no help to you."

Bennett sat quietly, lost in thought, for several minutes. Finally, he released his breath in a deep sigh and focused on Benton Quest again. "Well, I guess that's it, then. But I wonder if I could impose on you just a bit further."

"Certainly", Benton replied.

"Come back to Washington with me. Meet and discuss the problem with Dr. Wolenchek. I'm serving as a go-between, but communicating the scientific issues is _not_ my strong suit. I still can't believe there isn't some way that you can help in this situation."

Benton smiled ruefully. "Admiral, I appreciate your faith in me, but I am not a miracle worker."

"Perhaps not. But come and discuss the problem with Dr. Wolenchek, anyway."

Benton sighed. "All right. But I can't do it now. I have a meeting scheduled with a very prominent scientist from Japan on Monday, and guests from Bangalore arriving the same day. Mr. Subramanian will remain here through Thursday, and then Race is getting married on Friday. And that takes us right up to Christmas Day. I really don't see how I can get there anytime before then."

"Bannon's getting married again?" Bennett asked in amazement. "I never thought _that_ would happen. I figured he'd never get over his first wife."

Benton chuckled. "Well, I guess you could say he never did. He's marrying her again."

Bennett stared at him, thunderstruck. "He's remarrying _Estella Velasquez_????"

"Yes," Benton agreed, laughing. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at Bennett with an expression of tolerance. "You seem overly surprised. Why?"

"You didn't know the Bannons when they were married the first time," Bennett replied. "Oh, they were happy enough at the beginning. But it didn't really last long. And I have to admit, I don't believe I have ever seen _any_ couple that could fight the way those two could. Toward the end, it's all they did." Bennett shook his head ruefully. "I remember the night Estella asked him for the divorce. What a mess _that_ was."

"He's told me about it," Benton replied.

Bennett snorted. "You think so? Somehow, I doubt it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I don't think Bannon _remembers_ 90% of that night. He was so wasted, it's almost a miracle he's still here."

"How do you know?"

"Because I was the one called in to deal with him!" Bennett exclaimed. He relaxed, laying his head on the high back of his chair, and gazed at the ceiling, momentarily lost in the past. "It must have been close to midnight when I got the call. I was just getting ready for bed. They were living in New York at the time . . . " Bennett snorted softly and said, as though to himself, " . . . if you could call their life style 'living together' . . . At any rate, the MPs called me. Bannon was down on the docks, raising all kinds of hell. He was drunk and belligerent and in a really mean temper. No one could reason with him. He'd already decked four MPs, had smashed up two bars, and was well on his way to doing it to a third one. The sergeant in charge was at his wit's end. Their only remaining choice was to mace him. But even then, Bannon had a reputation, and the MPs knew that he wouldn't go down without a fight and that people were bound to get hurt. Before they resorted to that, the sergeant called me to find out what I wanted him to do. I told them to back off . . . that I would be there just as quickly as I could."

Bennett sighed and shook his head. "He was a mess. Bannon was a hard man to get to know . . . always had been . . . but by that time I thought I knew him better than most. But I'd never seen him like that. He was so full of anger and pain that he was lashing out at anything that came near him. How long he'd been drinking was anyone's guess, but the alcohol didn't seem to be putting him out. It was just making him mean . . ."

"Race tends to keep a pretty tight lid on his emotions . . . even now," Benton commented quietly.

"Yes, he does," Bennett agreed. "But that doesn't mean they don't build up inside him. And when that lid blows . . . I saw another side of Race Bannon that night. When I walked into that bar, he was standing in the middle of the room like a statue. The MPs were surrounding him but keeping a healthy distance, and there were three unconscious on the floor against one wall. He must have seen the movement at the door, because he turned his head and stared at me." Benton saw an almost imperceptible shudder pass through Bennett's body. "It was not a . . . pleasant . . . look. He stared at me for a long time before he spoke. I still remember his exact words. '_YOU_ . . . you and your fucking job . . . You just can't leave me alone. Always something . . . something I have to do . . . something only _**I**_ can do. You and your god-forsaken job has cost me _**everything**_, you bastard!' And then he came at me." 

Bennett fell silent, reliving those moments, and after a while Benton wondered if the man would continue. Finally, Bennett said, "The only thing that saved me was that the alcohol had slowed him down and I was able to stay out of his reach. I tried to reason with him, but he was well beyond that. Finally, I told the MPs to call his wife . . . that maybe she could talk with him. And that stopped him in his tracks. 'No . . . _**NO**_, don't call her . . . don't call Stel . . . you can't do that to her . . . please.' He was literally begging. And suddenly he dropped to his knees and started to cry." Bennett's eyes looked haunted as he focused on Benton Quest for the first time in quite a while. "He just went to pieces. I had the MPs put him in my car, directed the sergeant to arrange with the owners of the bars to pay for the damages, and took Bannon back to my house. My wife and I sobered him up, got him cleaned up, and sent him home. But he didn't talk much. It was only later that I heard about the divorce. And it was then that I knew what had caused that night." 

Bennett sighed deeply. "I don't know how much he remembers of that evening. I do know that he never touched alcohol much after that. And he changed . . . became colder . . . even more remote. Bannon had always been good, but after that night he became the most effective agent we had at I-1. But I have to admit . . . it wasn't an improvement. He was too controlled . . . strung too tightly . . . it was simply a question of when he would break. All of us knew that he couldn't keep up that way. It was one of the reasons he was assigned to you. You needed the kind of protection he could offer, and I hoped that a step away from the edge might help him regain some perspective." Bennett chucked suddenly, a bit ruefully. "I didn't anticipate that your son would break down the walls he erected around himself so completely." Bennett sighed again and shook his head. "I won't lie to you, Dr. Quest. Bannon's decision to leave I-1 and devote himself to Quest Enterprises was a blow to our organization. He was good and he has been missed. But speaking as a man . . . I'm glad it happened. Race Bannon needed a place of his own, and he found one here. I can't begrudge him that."

"What's more, Admiral, it gave him back his daughter . . . and in the end, it has given him back his wife." Benton's words were quiet and measured. "It's hard to rebuild after something that devastating. I know. But he has found a way to do it, and I'm glad you can be pleased about it. He is a good friend, and I'm glad to see him happy again."

"So am I, Dr. Quest. So am I." With a final sigh, Bennett straightened. "And speaking of Bannon, where is he? I'd like to talk with him before I leave."

Benton shook his head. "He's not here. He and Estella are down in Colombia closing down her current excavation. I expect him back on Tuesday or Wednesday."

Alarm flared in Bennett's eyes. "Not here? Then who's handling security on the facility while he's gone?"

Benton looked at Bennett in amusement. "Handling security? Admiral, we don't need anyone to handle security. Race's systems are extensive and function quite well even when he isn't here. And Race has trained all three of our children as well as myself. We are all perfectly capable of defending ourselves in the event of a sudden crisis. I assure you, we are quite safe."

Much to Benton's surprise, Bennett remained unconvinced. "Dr. Quest, I know how sensitive your work is. And how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands. It was the reason Race was assigned to you in the first place." Bennett was silent for a moment before finishing softly, as if to himself, "To leave you alone and unprotected now is highly risky."

Benton looked at his visitor with growing unease. The unconscious emphasis on the 'now' in Bennett's last comment had not escaped him. "Admiral, is there something going on that I should know about?"

Bennett's attention abruptly snapped back to the scientist. "Going on? No . . . no, there's nothing going on. I just think it's unwise to leave you here, unprotected." As though coming to some private decision, he straightened suddenly and said, "I'll see that a man from I-1 is dispatched immediately. He can ensure Compound security until Bannon returns. Maybe I'll even assign him here for an extended period. Added security can't hurt . . ."

"No."

"Dr. Quest, this is not . . ."

"I said, no, Admiral." Benton's voice had gone cold again and his expression was hard. "We have been through this before. I do not want strangers in my home. I only agreed to Race all those years ago because Jonny was so small and I couldn't continue my work and protect him as well. But now Race is a permanent member of my household, my sons are grown, and Race's daughter is here as well. I have all of the protection I need. Compound security is in place and fully functional and I am not alone. Furthermore, Race and Estella will be here in a few days. I don't require anyone else.

"But . . ."

"There are no 'buts', Admiral." Benton eyed the other man calculatingly. "Unless you can give me some _specific_ cause for concern?"

Bennett hesitated for an instant, then slowly shook his head. "No. Nothing in particular." He looked at the scientist in exasperation as he rose from his chair. "Not that a particular reason would have made a damned bit of difference, would it?"

Benton grinned at him as he rose, and the two men moved toward the front door of the house. "No, it wouldn't. But I do appreciate the offer, Admiral." Benton watched as Bennett got into his car and rolled down the window. "Tell Isaac that I'll give him a call and let him know when I'll be able to get there."

"All right," Bennett replied, "just please make it as soon as possible, Dr. Quest. We really do need any help you can provide."

"I will, Admiral. As soon after Christmas as I possibly can." Benton raised a hand in a gesture of farewell as Bennett started his car. "Drive carefully."

Bennett nodded, and waved as he pulled away. Benton watched thoughtfully as the car disappeared into the trees. Something was going on . . . something to do with VR interfaces. He'd bet on it. Benton frowned as he stepped back in the house and closed the door behind him. "IRIS, secure the Compound, please. And let's go to a level one status . . . just to be safe. No harm in being cautious."

"ACKNOWLEDGED," the computer replied quietly. "LEVEL ONE STATUS IMPLEMENTED. ALL SYSTEMS CLEAR. COMPOUND SECURE."

"Thank you," he replied automatically. He hated to lie to Bennett, but after long discussion, both he and Race had decided that QuestWorld technology was not something that should be in the hands of the military . . . ANY military. The potential for misuse was just too great. Benton sighed and stood listening to the silence for a long moment. Suddenly, he felt very isolated and alone. He would be very glad when Race got back . . .

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Excavation Site  
Jungles of Colombia**

  


Race Bannon took one look at his future wife and very carefully moved back a few steps. He had known Estella Velasquez for a long time and he wasn't sure he had ever seen her **this** angry. She was rigid in her chair, face flushed, eyes darkened until they were almost black, and hands clenched into fists so tightly that the skin over the knuckles was white. 

The table where she sat was covered with a jumbled of wadded-up newspapers, plastic bubble wrap, small cardboard boxes and Styrofoam shipping popcorn. In a clear spot at the center of all the mess, sat six objects. There were two ornately carved figurines about 6" tall depicting part-human, part-serpent figures, a beautifully-painted shallow bowl about 4" in diameter, a double-spouted pitcher about 7" tall, a gold necklace and a pair of large, disc-like earrings, decorated with small, colored stones. 

The target of Estella's anger stood on the opposite side of the table, about five feet away. His handsome face wore an expression of amused contempt, and the insolence in his voice was clear as he said, "It must be one of the workmen." 

Estella's face flushed an even darker red as she struggled desperately to hold her temper. Finally, she grated, "One of the workmen? Then how do you explain this being found in your tent?" 

Ruben Calderone shrugged negligently. "I cannot say. Perhaps someone has a grudge against me and put it in my tent in an effort to get me into trouble." 

"But I thought you were so well liked by the workmen, Ruben." Estella responded sarcastically. Then her expression became thoughtful. "Although, I noticed that situation does appear to have changed while I was away. Tell me, Ruben, what did you do to alienate the workmen?" Ruben didn't bother to answer. But as Estella leaned back in her chair, Race could see that she had her temper in check. She smiled at the young man in front of her and shrugged negligently. "Not that it matters. They will tell me soon enough once you are gone." 

Ruben grinned openly. "You cannot fire me. You have tried this before and the museum would not let you. My family's money is more important than your opinions." 

Estella returned the smile, her expression hardening. "True, they overrode my wishes originally. But they didn't this time. The Office for Antiquities and Cultural Heritage has been putting pressure on the Museum since I reported that items from this dig have been disappearing. And they aren't about to condone maintaining a thief as an employee on the dig." 

Ruben's insolent grin disappeared abruptly. "You cannot prove that!" 

"Oh, I think I can," Estella replied coldly. She pushed some crumpled newspaper out of the way and picked up a sheet of paper that had been lying hidden under the clutter. She perused it before she began to read, 

Lewis, 

_Hola! Como esta?_ Things are going well here. Work is winding down and the dig is packing up. I had hoped to get more out of it, but _La Diabla Rojo_ has decided to shut it down early. The take has not been bad, though, so I will not complain. 

There was some trouble at this end, but my family took care of it. The she-witch got a real lesson in power and influence, to be sure. It was quite amusing. She has since resigned, so it should not be a problem to pick up where we left off when excavation resumes. With _La Diabla Rojo_ and her partner out of the way, things should go much more smoothly. Bannon is too sharp . . . he is the main reason the take is so small this time.

The package should be en route shortly. Contact our friend and set up a meeting. The end of next week should do well. See you soon. 

R. 

Estella laid the paper down on the table in front of her and cast a coldly humorous look at the young man standing in front of her. "_La Diabla Rojo?_ The Red Devil . . . well, I'm flattered. It's good to know that Race and I were a detriment to your endeavors. But this . . . " she picked up the paper and shook it gently, " . . . this was stupid, Ruben. And it will be your permanent undoing." 

Ruben Calderone leaned forward abruptly and snatched at the sheet of paper in Estella's hand. "Give that to me! That is personal . . . you have no right . . ." 

Estella flicked it out of his reach as Race grabbed Ruben by the shoulder and jerked him away from Estella. Ruben pivoted and lashed out at the older man viciously. Race blocked the blow deftly, grabbed Ruben's arm and twisted it up behind his back, pinning him securely against the table with his body. 

"It is _**very**_ dangerous to threaten Estella or my daughter, Ruben. It tends to make me testy," Race warned him softly. 

Estella watched as Ruben's eyes widened and he visibly began to sweat. Briefly, she wondered at the violence of his reaction. It seemed excessive for the situation. 

"I . . . I am sorry, _Señor_ Bannon!" Ruben sputtered. "It was an accident. I . . . I was upset. I would never have done such a thing if I had not been provoked. It will not happen again . . . I swear it! I have promised Jessie . . ." 

Race and Estella exchanged startled looks. Jessie knew about this and didn't say anything? 

"It only happened the one time," Ruben insisted again, sounding frantic. "And I swore to her on my family's honor, that it would never happen again. Please, Dr. Velasquez . . ." the young man begged. 

For an instant, Estella hesitated, a soft, inner voice warning her that something was going on here that she didn't understand. Finally, she said, "Race, let him go." Abruptly, Race released the young man and Ruben collapsed forward onto the table, barely missing the precious objects lying to one side. Estella rose hastily and gathered up the items, placing them on a worktable behind her. Then she turned back to the young man who had straightened and was standing on the other side of the table again. 

"You will leave here . . . **now**. Since you have your own personal transport, this shouldn't be a problem. I've faxed a copy of this letter along with a letter explaining the circumstances of the discovery to both the Museum and the Office of Antiquities and Cultural Heritage. The Museum has already confirmed your dismissal. What the OACH will choose to do, I have no idea, but I doubt they will be pleased." 

Ruben Calderone turned to leave, but Estella stopped him. "Ruben . . ." He turned back to her warily. "You also need to know that I will be notifying UCLA and your department chair of this incident. I suspect you will be hearing from the Student Affairs Office very soon." 

"Of course," he replied venomously. "I would expect no less of _El Diabla_." The final look he gave both of them was filled with hatred, as he turned and stormed out of the tent. 

A heavy silence filled the tent as Estella sat down once again, drained after the confrontation. Outside, she could hear the sounds of the workmen calling cheerfully as they worked on closing down the excavation site. Finally, Estella sighed deeply, her shoulders slumped, and simply said, "Shit." 

Race crossed the tent and came to stand behind her. Catching her shoulders, he drew her back to lean against him and began to massage the knotted muscles gently. "There was nothing else you could do, Stel. You couldn't allow him to continue looting the site. Or any other, for that matter." 

"I know," she replied. "But it's such a waste. He was so talented. He had the right instincts and a feel for the work. He could have been one of the best. And now he'll never be anything at all." 

"I know," Race replied consolingly. The pair were quiet for a few minutes, allowing the impact of the confrontation to fade slightly. After awhile, Race asked hesitantly, "Stel, did you get any peculiar vibes from that exchange?" 

Estella looked up at him, worry clouding her green eyes briefly. "You mean, like maybe we didn't know everything there was to know?" 

"Yeah," Race replied, staring sightlessly at the closed tent flap. "That's exactly what I meant." 

"He certainly implied Jessie knew something. And looking back on it now, I could swear Jessie was avoiding him during the last day or so she was here. I thought at the time that it was just the stress of fighting with Jonny, but now I'm not so sure." 

"She didn't say anything to you at the time?" 

Estella sat forward, shaking her head. "No. Those last few days she was very quiet." 

"I can't believe she wouldn't have told you if she knew anything."

"I can't either." She sighed again and rose, turning to the worktable behind her.

Race settled into a chair as Estella began to repack the objects that had been found in Ruben's tent. Estella eyed him warily. "Don't you think you should be sure Ruben leaves without causing any trouble?" 

Race stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back comfortably, grinning at her. "I don't have to. Nathan and five workmen were waiting for him right outside the tent. With any luck, Nathan will see that he gets away with no damage. And I mean 'damage' in terms of visible bruising to Ruben's precious person." 

Estella shook her head. "I can't figure out what he could have done to make the workmen so angry. I would swear they all liked him before we left." 

Race shrugged. "From what I've been able to glean from Nathan and the workmen, Ruben did a regular Jekyl and Hyde personality change as soon as we left. Drove the men relentlessly in the heat, worked them 14-16 hour days, refused some of them food if he thought they weren't working hard enough. No one could control him, not even Nathan, who was supposedly in charge. But he knew the limits . . . how far he could go and still not totally alienate the Museum. Nathan said he complained to the Board several times about Ruben's behavior but they just brushed him off." 

Estella grunted in disgust. "Of course they did! They wanted the Calderone's money. And look at what their greed netted them . . . I doubt we'll ever know exactly how much he got away with from this site." 

"Surely the inventory will tell you." 

"Only if he took logged pieces," she pointed out. "You know as well as I do that he would have been caught long before this if that's what he'd been doing. For a field site, our security here is exceptional." She smiled at him lovingly. "Thanks to you." 

Race savored that look, still a bit dazed at having it turned on him again after all these years. "You're welcome." A slight frown flickered across his face. "Maybe that's what Jessie discovered. Maybe she caught him with an unlogged piece, and he convinced her it was the first time he had ever done it and swore he wouldn't do it again, if she didn't report it." 

"Maybe." Estella replied thoughtfully as she closed the packing crate. "Doesn't sound like her, though. You know how much she hates grave robbers and antiquity thieves. I don't know. I'll talk with her about it when we get home." 

"Speaking of our beloved daughter, what do you hear from her?" 

Race rose and took the packed box from Estella, adding it to the others waiting to be loaded on the plane, as she laughed. "All she can talk about is the wedding. I got a five-page e-mail from her this morning outlining the status of all the arrangements. It actually sounds like she's got everything well in hand." 

"I was under the impression this was going to be a small, quiet affair." 

"Small . . .yes. Quiet . . . relatively. But done right . . . absolutely, even if it kills her!" 

"But . . ." 

"Don't fuss, Race," Estella chided him gently. "She's having a wonderful time. And in a way, I think it makes up for a lot in her mind. Let her plan and organize to her heart's content if it makes her happy." 

"You're right," he sighed. "Although, I have to admit, when you said you wanted a small wedding I envisioned a minister, Benton and the kids in the family room at home."

Estella laughed. "Well, so did I. But I won't knock 25-30 people in a chapel. And if she wants attendants, gowns, flowers, music, and a reception, I don't mind. Furthermore," she grinned at him mischievously, "it's good practice for her." 

Race stopped dead. "What do you mean _'good practice'_?" She laughed at his expression. "What's going on? What do you know?" His voice rose in agitation as she laughed harder. "No! She's too young . . . she's just a baby. She can't . . ."

"Calm down!" Estella gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. "Men! She is _**not**_ a baby any longer, Race. She's a young woman . . . and a very sensible one. Jessie and I talked about it a little before you and I left for Colombia, and she assures me there are no wedding plans in the works for anytime in the near future. She made vague comments about after the two of them finish school, but even that's a bit up in the air." 

"Oh . . . well . . . " Race said, slightly mollified. After a minute he added plaintively, "Where did the time go, Stel? It seems like she was just born yesterday." 

Estella reached over and squeezed his hand gently. "I know. Time moves so fast. But there's nothing we can do about that. However, we can be very proud of her." She smiled at him. " . . . of both of them. You had a large role in raising Jonny, too, and he's a fine young man." 

"Yes, he is. And for all that it makes me nervous sometimes, you know how I feel about their relationship." Looking around, he changed the subject abruptly, "So where are we here?" 

"That's a good question," she replied briskly. "These should be the last of the artifact boxes. I've numbered each of them and a detailed list of the contents is right here." She handed him a 4" x 6" field notebook. "These all need to go to Nathan to be placed in the security enclosure." 

Race shook his head. "With the trouble we've had with theft, I don't want to risk holding on to this stuff any longer. I've had Nathan shift all of it to the plane. Once the last of it is loaded, I'm flying it to the Museum. They'll offload it and put it directly into the vault." 

"Good idea. We're making good progress, I think. We still need to seal the tombs we've been working in, transfer over all the surveyed grid lines to fixed markers, and pack up the equipment." 

Race nodded. "Very good progress. We should be out of here by Monday . . . Tuesday at the latest." 

Estella sighed. "It can't be too soon. I'm ready to go home." 

"Home?" Race grinned at her. 

"Home," she agreed firmly.


	3. Chapter 2 Friday, December 17

**

Chapter 2

**

  
Friday, December 17  
Unspecified location   


The man named Baxter paced. It seemed as though he was constantly in motion. The people at the various monitoring consoles around which he moved watched him uneasily from the corner of their eyes, taking great care never to meet his gaze. No one wanted to draw the man's attention. Suddenly, Baxter whirled as the lock mechanism cycled and the door to the control room opened. A short, lean man with brown hair entered. With a quick glance, he spotted Baxter and, without breaking stride, veered in that direction purposefully. Behind him, the other two men who formed the scientific "brains" of Baxter's organization hesitated in the doorway. Both men jumped forward nervously as the door closed abruptly behind them and the lock re-engaged.

"What have you found out, Edgerton?" Baxter demanded impatiently.

Dr. Nathaniel Edgerton stopped about five feet from his employer and responded calmly, "Our informant in the Pentagon confirms that the U.S. government has no on-going research on this type of weapon system. So evidently, Dr. Payson's fears were simply paranoia . . . they had refused to fund his research because they weren't interested in the idea, not because they were already working on it themselves. Both the Pakistanis and the Israelis have something similar on the drawing board, but they are only in the most rudimentary stages and are probably a good five to seven years away from having a working prototype."

Baxter waived a dismissive hand at the last comment. "The U.S., the Chinese, and perhaps the Russians are the only ones who might have advanced the research far enough to have the solutions we need."

Edgerton shook his head. "None of them are pursuing the idea actively enough to have reached the stage we are at. The United States is as close as any with their training simulation programs. They have had trouble with cybersickness, time lags, and various other problems, but the program hasn't been of a high enough priority for them to devote many resources to it. What they have will be of no use to us."

"So you are saying that you have no answers," Baxter replied dangerously.

"No, I am saying that the governments of this world do not have the answers. That is not to say that they aren't out there," Edgerton replied, holding his ground as his employer began to advance on him. 

Baxter stopped abruptly. "Explain yourself," he demanded harshly.

Edgerton deliberately turned his back on Baxter and began to pace restlessly. "You assume that the only people who are likely to have the answers we need are government research teams. Don't forget that Payson was working on his own. I believe our answers lie with independent researchers."

"And how do you propose to find those researchers? Advertise in the _Times_?" Baxter asked sarcastically.

"I don't need to find them," Edgerton replied haughtily. "I already know where to start looking." 

"Then why are you wasting time?!" Baxter screamed in rage. "I want this system operational NOW! I should . . ."

"You should what?" Edgerton replied contemptuously. "Kill me the way you did Payson?" Baxter halted a few steps away, panting in fury. "And just where would that leave you? You want the weapon operational, and right now, I'm the only one you have left that can make that happen."

"You are treading a very fine line, Dr. Edgerton," Baxter said thinly, struggling to control himself. "No one is irreplaceable."

"I am well aware of that. But I have one advantage . . . I know your operations, your goals, and I know how to get them accomplished. Bringing in someone new would take too much time . . . time I don't think you have."

Baxter eyed the man coldly, temper firmly in check. "What makes you say that?"

"Because the information I got from our Pentagon informant tells me that there are rumors about the incident in the desert. Evidently, the experiment which eliminated the spy in our organization was monitored."

Baxter stiffened. "How? There was no way the man could have broadcast anything."

Edgerton shrugged. "Either he planted a monitoring device somewhere within the complex before he was discovered or he was not the only spy who has managed to infiltrate our operations. Either way, the U.S. government is aware of your operations, and it's only a matter of time before they track you down."

With an inarticulate sound of anger, Baxter began to pace again. After a moment, he turned suddenly and stabbed a sharp finger at a man dressed in a black jumpsuit not far away. "You," he snapped. "Start a complete sweep of this facility. If there is a monitoring device within this complex, I want it found. Take him with you," he added, waving at one of the other scientists who was hovering in the background. "Assume the device is here and FIND it. I want it disabled immediately. It is not to broadcast anything else. Do you understand me?" Both men nodded and scurried from the room. Then Baxter turned to a second man in black. "You will institute a complete background search of every person in my organization. Start with those placed at this facility and then move to all other branches of my business, both covert and public. If there is a second plant, he is to be found and eliminated."

"But, Sir," the man objected, "that has already been done . . . twice!"

"Then do it again!" Baxter thundered. "If one man managed to get in, it's possible another one did, as well. And if there _is_ another one, I want him found!"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" the man replied hastily and sprinted from the room.

"Now," Baxter said, turning back to Edgerton, "explain to me why it is that you've known all along who can solve this problem and you haven't brought him to me already."

Edgerton looked at the white-haired man in exasperation. The man's impatience and impossible demands would be his undoing. "I pursued other options because I knew you would want the information in the safest manner possible. We can take risks if we have to, but why do so if it isn't necessary?" Edgerton sighed and turned away from Baxter. "Unfortunately, it appears we have no other choice."

Baxter eyed the man for a moment. Edgerton was a brilliant man. Educated at MIT, he had degrees in mechanical, industrial, and electrical engineering as well as a Ph.D. in computer science. His specialties were artificial intelligence and industrial automation, which had made him the perfect choice for chief research scientist in Baxter's organization. To the world at large, he was the Director of Science and Research for Elias International, Inc. But, in truth, Edgerton was the scientific genius behind all of the covert operations for Baxter's global domination plans. The man was cold, calculating, and merciless. He had been with the organization for years . . . outlasting all of his co-workers and superiors. Baxter knew that Edgerton often used Elias for his own purposes. But that was all right. Baxter was aware of his machinations and they suited his purposes. The man was greedy for power, fame and money . . . motives Baxter could easily understand. And because of this, he relied on the man and felt safe in doing so. Much as he hated to admit it, Edgerton was right . . . he would be extremely difficult to replace. "So tell me," he demanded harshly.

"To the best of my knowledge," Edgerton replied, as he continued his pacing, "there are only two men alive who have the necessary expertise to resolve this problem . . . already have, in fact. One of them has solved all of our current problems, and the other is capable of stealing the technology and ruthless enough to use it."

"So let's get them!"

Edgerton shook his head. "It's not that easy."

"We will make it that easy," Baxter stated with finality. "Who are they?"

"The first is a man you've already run into." Edgerton stopped his pacing and gazed at his employer steadily. "Benton Quest." 

Baxter's white skin flushed in fury until it seemed the same color as his eyes. "Quest!" He made the name a curse.

"The other is a man named Jeremiah Surd," Edgerton continued, undismayed by Baxter's volatile response. "There are pros and cons to each. Quest is the man who actually created the software. Get him and you have the solution in hand. There are two major difficulties with using Quest, however. The first is actually laying our hands on the man. His security is extremely tight. He has the best of everything when it comes to hardware, and Bannon, the man who handles all his security, is totally unapproachable. Additionally, there is no way to place a plant in his organization since the person would have to be part of his immediate entourage and that group is composed solely of Quest's family and Bannon. And the second difficulty is making him talk. That, I suspect, would be even more difficult than getting him in the first place. I guarantee you, he would _not_ cooperate."

Baxter tossed his head negligently, his entire attention now concentrated on Edgerton's words. "It would be easy enough to make the man talk. Take his son and he would sing quickly enough."

Edgerton shook his head violently. "NO! The last thing you want is to try to take more than one of the family . . . particularly Quest's son. Putting the boy in jeopardy would simply harden Quest's resolve. It would also bring Bannon down like a harpy. If we are forced to go that route, the best way to deal with it is to isolate Quest and split Bannon's attention, putting pressure on him to protect the boy and the rest of the Quest family. That would give you the time to try to break Quest and get him to cooperate." Edgerton frowned as he contemplated the situation. Finally, he shook his head. "No, I would say that taking Quest should be used only as a last resort."

"So what about this Surd? Who is he?"

"A brilliant man who has no use for the government whatsoever . . . brilliant but psychotic. He was injured in an altercation when they cut off funding for his research." Edgerton smiled grimly. "They considered both the man and his work too violent and deadly for practical use."

"What was he developing?" Baxter asked, intrigued. 

"Nerve gas. A very deadly variety. When they cancelled support of his research, he planted a huge canister of it in the heart of Chicago and threatened to release it unless they reinstituted his funding."

Baxter laughed. "Gutsy. Sounds like my kind of man. Obviously, it didn't go off. What happened?"

Edgerton shrugged. "Government sent in a Special Teams Force to take him down. They managed to do it, but Surd was left paralyzed from the neck down as a result." Edgerton paused a moment before adding, "Race Bannon headed the Special Teams Force."

Baxter stopped, staring at the man as he absorbed that bit of information. "Bannon? As in the Bannon that is head of security for the Quests?"

"The very same."

Baxter thought this over for a long time. "And I suppose that Surd is not fond of Mr. Bannon."

Smiling thinly, Edgerton replied, "Hates his guts . . . and by association, the Quests as well. From what I hear, he would do almost anything to get rid of both of them."

"And Surd? Can he be trusted?"

"Trusted? Only as far as it follows his own interests. If he sees benefit out of it for himself, I suspect he'll collaborate wholeheartedly. But he's a megalomaniac . . . self-centered, greedy, ambitious, and . . . as I said . . . psychotic. And that makes him dangerous. But he hates the Quests and Bannon, he knows their systems, and he's bypassed their computer security and stolen from them before. I have no doubt he could do it again."

Baxter eyed his chief scientist with growing suspicion. "How do you know so much about the man and what he's done? Where is your information coming from?"

"I used to work for him." Edgerton paused briefly before continuing, "Right after finishing my Ph.D., before I went to work for you, I worked as part of Surd's research team. I was to have been on the boat in Chicago the day Bannon attacked, but we had had a serious computer malfunction. We needed a new module for the system and rather than waiting for it to be shipped through our normal covert channels, Surd sent me for it. I was in New York City when Bannon struck. I laid low after the raid. I didn't know how much information Bannon's team had managed to extract, so I had no idea if I was a target. Not long after the incident, I heard that fire onboard the boat had destroyed virtually all of Surd's computer files, taking any record of his research personnel with it. Surd was supposedly dead, and the rest of his organization was in shambles.

"The person who guarded Surd's back was a woman named Julia Canova. She was Surd's immediate assistant, head of security, and lover. Her brother, Lorenzo, was muscle. Not very bright, but big, strong and totally amoral. If Surd wanted it done, Julia would plan it and Lorenzo would execute. They made a formidable team. I still don't know how they did it, but Julia and Lorenzo managed to beat the government's rap and walked after the Chicago incident. I contacted Julia a couple of months later, but she wasn't interested in taking me on. She was out of the research business with Surd gone." Edgerton shrugged, "Not long after, I went to work for you." 

Baxter contemplated the man briefly before he replied in a hard voice, "That's all well and good, but it's also old history. How do you know that Surd would help us now?"

"Because Surd hasn't changed. Offer him the opportunity to get back at the Quests and he'll jump at it."

"How do you know?" Baxter insisted, with a dark and suspicious look. "How do you know so much of what Surd thinks."

Edgerton stared at his employer for a long minute. Then his lips curled in a tight, self-satisfied smile and he replied, "Because I've kept in contact with Julia over the years." Edgerton could see the fury building in Baxter's face again.

"WHY?" he thundered. Baxter stepped toward the man threateningly, but Edgerton held his ground.

"Because Julia Canova is a **very** beautiful woman," he replied. "Surd was missing and presumed dead for better than twenty years. And once he was found alive again, he was a total invalid . . . confined to a life support wheelchair. And while Julia is completely devoted to Surd, there are certain . . . things . . . Surd is no longer capable of. I provide something she needs and vice versa. She may talk about Surd but we keep business out of it. In that respect, she goes her way and I go mine."

Baxter had stopped, watching Edgerton carefully. "And what does Surd think of that arrangement?"

Edgerton shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen the man since before the incident in Chicago in '78, and I didn't have a relationship with Julia at that point. Back then, this arrangement would have been suicide. And now? I couldn't say whether she's told him about it or not, but Surd's no fool."

Baxter was silent for a long time, pacing circles around the control room. Finally, he turned back to Edgerton and asked, "Where is this Jeremiah Surd now?"

"He's in confinement at Brattleford Prison in Pennsylvania."

Baxter paced some more. Finally, he stopped and said flatly, "We can get him out of there." Baxter turned and headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, "See to it."

"We've got to get Julia out as well." Edgerton warned. "He'll want her. She's his operational connection with the outside world."

"Then he'll have to learn to cope with a new connection. Get Surd out. The woman is extraneous."

"He won't like it," Edgerton argued, following him toward the door. "You need him cooperative. Getting Julia out is a small price to pay for his willing assistance."

Baxter swung on the man and said thinly, "I will **not** take the trouble to break your girlfriend out of jail, Edgerton. Surd will be happy enough to be free . . . he'll cooperate without her. Just get it done."

The door slid shut behind him and Edgerton just shook his head, angry and disgusted. Fine, he'd get it done. Let Baxter try to deal with Surd. He had no idea what he was in for. In all the time he had known Surd, the only person who had ever been able to reason with the man was Julia. And from what she had said, since Surd resurfaced, things had only gotten worse. Edgerton smiled sourly as he turned to a nearby computer console. Life certainly wouldn't be dull once those two began to butt heads!

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


**

Quest Compound

**

  


" . . . leads to the final conclusion that enhancement of the determinate coding for random access will provide for dramatic increases in performance at the macro level." 

Benton Quest leaned back with a sigh and read through the final few paragraphs again. _That will do it,_ he thought in relief. 

"IRIS, take this file, format it to NASA's publication standards, and fax it to Dr. Meyerson at Langley."

"WORKING," the soft, feminine voice of the Quest computer system replied. After a brief moment, the computer asked, "DO YOU WISH ME TO CORRECT SPELLING AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS BEFORE TRANSMISSION, DR. QUEST?"

"Hmmm? What?" Benton responded, his mind elsewhere.

"DO YOU WISH FOR ME TO CORRECT SPELLING AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS BEFORE TRANSMISSION?" IRIS repeated patiently.

Benton chuckled dryly. "Was I a bit sloppy? Yes, correct the errors, IRIS, and provide me with a highlighted copy of the changes to check."

"WORKING. DISPLAYING NOW."

Benton scanned the document quickly, made two quick changes and then said, "That looks good. Save it and transmit it with a brief note to Dr. Meyerson extending my apologies for the lateness of the submission."

"WORKING." After a few moments, the computer informed him softly, "TRANSMISSION COMPLETE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF RECEIPT RECEIVED." IRIS paused briefly, then added, "DR. MEYERSON SENDS HIS THANKS."

"Very good. Thank you, IRIS." Benton leaned back in his chair, laying his head against the high headrest and allowed his mind to drift for a few moments. Getting that report done was a load off of his mind. It had been the final report on a research project commissioned by NASA almost two years before. While not a difficult research project to design and run, it has been time consuming due to the long term testing that needed to be done. It meant one less thing to have to think about. Which was a good thing, because Benton had a feeling that something was in the wind.

He frowned as he considered yesterday's visit from Admiral Bennett. On the surface, everything seemed very straightforward. Benton knew that the military was having difficulties with their simulators. He had discussed the problem with Isaac Wolenchek more than once. And Bennett's assessment of the money issue was also true. But there was a point during yesterday's meeting when a cold finger of suspicion had moved up Benton's spine. Bennett was fishing for something specific. Benton was certain of it. And in some way or another, it involved QuestWorld.

Benton contemplated that possibility grimly. He had discussed the idea of notifying the government of the existence of QuestWorld with Race more than once. Benton tended to vacillate on the idea. Sometimes the idea seemed like a good one. With some work, QuestWorld technology would be applicable in a lot of situations. The system's high speed and multi-tasking abilities made it perfect for functions like coordinating and executing rescue operations and humanitarian efforts, screening visitors to important dignitaries, coordinating and compiling data from large research facilities and making the results readily available to co-workers, compiling symptoms of disease and searching medical databases for potential treatments, and many other applications. But one specific application had more potential than all the others, and it was the one that Benton feared the most. Military. The thought of the weapons and warfare potential of the system had kept him from sleeping more than once. Benton had made a firm commitment to himself many years ago that, if he had any say in the matter, he would never allow his inventions to be used for the purpose of killing others. He was deeply concerned that if QuestWorld became common knowledge, military applications would follow very swiftly.

Race had spoken his mind on the subject in very forceful terms. He was strongly against notifying the government of QuestWorld's existence. Race knew, with an insider's knowledge, the way the military mind worked, and he warned that the mentality would be a simple one. The knowledge and capabilities were there. If the United States didn't develop it first, someone else would, so it would be vital that we keep ahead of everyone else. It was circular logic and Benton knew it. But it was also a logic it was practically impossible to derail, because, like it or not, it was the truth. If the capabilities of QuestWorld became public knowledge, the rush to understand and duplicate it would be on. And then it was only a matter of time before someone got a similar system up and running. And from there on things would escalate rapidly. Benton shook his head in frustration. Every time he began thinking about this problem it always came back to the same thing. This was one invention that he really didn't believe the world was ready for. It was better kept quiet and unavailable. Which made Admiral Bennett's visit even more disturbing.

Benton sighed to himself. There were days when life just seemed to be moving way too fast. The decision on what to do about QuestWorld was coming . . . probably much sooner than Benton was ready for . . . and somehow he had the feeling that Bennett's visit was only the first trickle of water through a set of floodgates that was rapidly deteriorating.

Somewhere in the distance he heard dim voices . . . Jonny's voice calling some indistinguishable question and Hadji's muffled reply. Benton smiled with only the faintest trace of humor. Speaking of life moving too fast. The situation with QuestWorld wasn't the only thing that was changing. Life within his own family was shifting as well, and in this area Benton _knew_ he wasn't prepared.

_When did they change?_ Benton asked himself for the thousandth time. _And why didn't I see it happening?_ His wandering gaze settled on the picture of Rachel that rested on the shelf to his right. Even from the flat, two-dimensional image captured by that long-ago camera, he could see the shimmer of sunlight in her blonde hair and the humor in her eyes. She seemed to be laughing at him. He laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, shutting out the image of his wife. As he sat there, reality seemed to recede and a soft gray mist surrounded him. Suddenly, he heard her voice whispering to him.

_They grow up, Benton,_ the soft voice said. _It's right and good . . . it's as it should be._

"But I'm not ready," he replied in a whisper, searching for her. 

_I know,_ her soft voice responded. It seemed to come from all around him. _But you must learn to be. They will need you._

"I need more time." he replied desperately, "There's no hurry . . ."

_You can't change this, Benton. It is inevitable._

"They're too young," he insisted to the bodiless voice.

_Jonny is almost 18. Hadji is 19 and the Sultan of his own country. You can't make decisions for them any longer. You can only offer strength and guidance. To do anything else is wrong._

"I don't want them to grow up," he whispered. "I want my little boys back."

_I know,_ Rachel's soft voice replied gently, _but you must grow with them or be left behind._

"I wish you were here." She had been dead over ten years, and yet sometimes she seemed so close Benton could swear she was still standing beside him. "I need you."

_I will always be here,_ the voice in his mind replied softly, seeming to fade. _You only need to look._ And then in some indefinable way, she was gone.

"Dad?" Jonny voice cut through the mists in his mind. "You awake?"

Benton raised his head and opened his eyes to see his son standing in the doorway. "Yes," he replied, his voice breaking unexpectedly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes." The reply was stronger this time. He rubbed his eyes and looked up to see the concern in Jonny's eyes. Benton chuckled, embarrassed. "I think I must have dozed off. I'm awake now, though."

Jonny snorted. "I'm not surprised. I don't think you've been to bed before 2:00 a.m. for the last week! Did you manage to finish Dr. Meyerson's project?"

"Finished and sent," Benton replied grinning at Jonny. "I think it must have been the let-down. Now what do I do?"

From behind Jonny, Jessie suddenly appeared with an eminently practical suggestion. "How about eat dinner?"

With a chuckle, Benton put his earlier doubts aside and rose to join the two young people. "That's the best offer I've had all day!" 


	4. Chapter 3 Saturday, December 18

**

Chapter 3

**

  


Saturday, December 18

  


New York City

  


Terminal number seven of the John F. Kennedy Airport was crowded. People flowed through the corridor in both directions, sometimes moving swiftly and other times starting and stopping like lanes of traffic on a freeway at rush hour. Around the gates themselves, crowds of people milled in various states of patience. Some paced restlessly, others sat, reading books or staring out the windows, while others stood staring blankly into space or talking in small groups. It was 5:30 p.m. of a gray December day as Hadji Singh joined the throng bunched around gate nine, awaiting Flight # BA003 from London's Heathrow Airport, which was just minutes away from touchdown. It seemed strange to him how foreign this all seemed. For all the flight miles he had logged and all of the places he'd been, it wasn't often that he was faced with negotiating the terminals of the commercial airlines. Usually, he flew out of private terminals in smaller airports reserved for those people who owned their own planes. Those terminals never seemed this chaotic.

Today, the restless nature of the crowds mirrored his uneasiness. He had been eagerly anticipating this day from the moment he had left Bangalore almost six weeks before. But now that it had finally arrived, he was nervous. He wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect, particularly in light of the little bombshell that Admiral Bennett had inadvertently dropped yesterday. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, using his meditation techniques to try to control his rising anger. _To have announced that I am to be married, and to have done it through official government channels, even after I specifically forbade it??_ He felt the fury rising again, in spite of all his efforts to dampen it. This was his mother's doing. No one else would have dared.

After he had returned home last night, he contacted several people in Bangalore to find out exactly what was going on. He had not lied to his mother when he told her that he monitored the situation there very closely when he was gone. He had eyes and ears in places his mother would never dream of, and they reported back to him faithfully on all the intrigue that was afoot, both inside the palace and in the countryside. All of his sources said the same thing. Word was out that the Sultan was betrothed to a girl from one of the outlying regions of the province. But all agreed that nothing was being said about the name of the girl or when the marriage was to take place. In fact, one of his sources told him, speculation was running high on who the girl was, and there were even rumors of wagers being taken on her identity. Hadji hadn't liked that at all, but grudgingly admitted to himself that it was to be expected. He had come very close to calling both the Indian and the Bangalorian ambassadors to try to still the rumors. But after thinking more carefully about it, he realized that trying to squash the rumors now would only add more fuel to the fire. But that did not mean that there wouldn't be some repercussions over this fiasco when he returned to Bangalore . . . particularly for his mother.

"Are . . . are you all right, young man?" a thin, reedy voice asked suddenly. Hadji opened his eyes, startled, and found a very old woman standing at his left elbow. She was tiny and round-shouldered, with snow-white hair and sharp brown eyes. She was dressed in a blue pantsuit and a gray wool coat and she clung tightly to a black patent leather handbag. As she looked at him in concern, he became aware of the rigid set of his back and neck and his clenched fists. This would _not_ do. He forced himself to relax, flexing his fingers to ease the sudden cramp that gripped them. Taking a deep breath, he smiled down at her and bowed slightly.

"Yes, Madam, I am well. I thank you for your concern. I seem to have gotten a bit . . . wrapped up . . . in my thoughts."

At that instant, a group of businessmen, frustrated at the slowness of the corridor traffic, attempted to force their way through a bottleneck of people. In the resultant shuffle, the old woman was bumped sharply by a large, stocky young man in ragged blue jeans and a black T-shirt. The old woman shied away in fear and confusion. Hadji reached out hastily, taking her arm and drawing her into a small clear space.

"This is a very busy place today," he said to her in a calming voice. "There must be several planes arriving at once."

"I . . . I don't know," she said, looking around in bewilderment. "I . . . I've never been here before, you see. But my son is arriving today . . . he lives in London . . . and I haven't seen him in nine years . . . and . . . and he asked . . . I can still drive, you see, and . . . but I don't much . . . and things are so strange . . . and . . . but I wanted to see my son . . . " She looked like she was about to cry.

"Yes, of course," Hadji replied, putting his arm around her shoulders consolingly. He could feel her shaking. "If I may offer, Madam, perhaps you will allow me to help you find your son?"

The old woman looked up at him hesitantly. "Oh, that would be very good of you . . . but I don't know you . . . "

Hadji bowed deeply to her. "My name is Hadji Singh, Madam, and I would be most happy to help you." He glanced up as people began streaming out of the jetway of gate nine. "I am here to meet some people, as well. They should be here very shortly, and then we will assist you in finding your son."

"I would be very grateful," the old woman said, looking up at the tall young man with dawning hope. "I'm afraid this is much worse than I ever imagined."

Hadji laughed easily. "Airports can be a bit overwhelming, particularly when you are not accustomed to them. May I ask your name, Madam?"

The old woman blushed and put a hand to a withered cheek. "Oh . . . oh, I am so sorry. I'm not usually this forward. It's just . . . you looked . . . well, I don't . . . I'm Martha . . . Martha Addison . . . of Fairfield, Connecticut."

"And you drove in here today from Fairfield?" Hadji asked her in amazed admiration. "I am most impressed, Mrs. Addison. That is quite a long way to come when you are not familiar with the city."

"Well, my neighbor, Mr. Lockersby, was going to bring me, but he's down with the flu, poor man, and simply wasn't up to it. And I did so want to meet James . . . that's my son, you see . . . it's been so long . . . and he's bringing his wife and children . . . and I've never seen the children . . . and . . . "

"Yes, of course," Hadji agreed, scanning the crowd. "As I said, my name is Hadji Singh and I live with my family in Rockport, Maine. I am here to meet two people who are coming here to visit from India." He paused suddenly, recognizing two of the individuals exiting through the gate. "In fact, there they are now." His gaze focused on the young woman just exiting the gate. She was dressed in a dark blue sari and her satiny black hair shown in the light. Gold jewelry glittered around her neck and wrist as she shifted the coat draped over her arm. Her dark eyes roved over the crowd restlessly, searching it for a familiar face. Suddenly, their eyes locked across the crowded space and Hadji could feel time stop for an instant. Then she smiled, and all of Hadji's uneasiness fled. Kefira was here, and things seemed right again. Hadji watched as she turned and grasped her father's arm, pointing excitedly. Rajeev Subramanian's gaze followed his daughter's pointing finger and the two men's eyes met. Rajeev bowed his head briefly in acknowledgement, then caught his daughter's arm and drew her toward the luggage carousel.

Hadji turned to Mrs. Addison, who was watching the young man with a spark of interest. "My visitors will be here momentarily. Do you have the flight information for your son's plane, Mrs. Addison?"

The old woman began fumbling with her handbag. "Yes. It's right here. James sent it to me." She drew out an envelope and removed a letter. Folded inside of it was a single sheet of white paper that included a flight itinerary. Hadji scanned it quickly and then consulted his watch . . . 5:47. Drawing the woman after him, he moved a few feet to where he could check the arrival board. Mrs. Addison's son was due in at gate 12 in about 30 minutes. _Good,_ Hadji thought, _it will be on our way out, and we can stay with her until her son arrives._ Hadji explained what he intended to Mrs. Addison, and then guided her to a chair where the two of them waited for Kefira and her father to clear customs. They were in the midst of a conversation over pictures of her grandchildren when a voice interrupted them.

"Excellency." Hadji rose and faced his future father-in-law calmly. The man bowed deeply, "I bring greetings from your mother."

Hadji stiffened slightly at the man's comment and he could feel Mrs. Addison fluttering at his side in confusion. He inclined his head to the older man briefly and replied in a formal tone, "Rajeev Subramanian. I am pleased to see that you have arrived safely." Then his eyes flicked to the young woman standing slightly back from the two men. "Kefira."

Kefira bowed in acknowledgement and replied formally, "Excellency." For a heartbeat, no one said anything as the two young people gazed at each other. Then, in a rush, Kefira darted around her father and caught Hadji's arm. "Oh, Hadji, it is so _**good**_ to see you!" and they both began to laugh joyfully. Hadji caught her hands in his and squeezed them gently, wishing desperately that he could do more. Rajeev stood back, smiling slightly, and watched their reunion indulgently.

Hadji finally turned back to the older man and asked, "So, your flight went well? And your business meetings en route?"

"Very well," Rajeev agreed, shaking hands briskly with the young Sultan. "I would like to discuss them with you later, if there is time."

"We will make time," Hadji agreed.

Kefira noticed the confused elderly woman and stepped forward to take her hands. "Hello," she said to the woman, with a friendly smile. "My name is Kefira. Are you a friend of Hadji's?"

The woman responded with a timid smile and replied haltingly, "I . . . I don't know . . . such a kind young man. He . . ."

Hadji shook his head at his own thoughtlessness. "I am terribly sorry. This is Mrs. Addison. She has come to meet her son and found herself a bit overwhelmed. I have offered to help her locate him."

Kefira was immediately concerned. Putting her arm around the elderly woman's shoulders, she said, "Of course we will help you find him!" She looked around the room in wide-eyed wonder and then back at Mrs. Addison again. "This place is so big, it is a wonder anyone can find anything."

"Oh, you are so kind! I simply don't know what I would do. I really didn't expect anything like this at all."

"Well, you do not need to worry," Hadji reassured her. "I know where your son will be arriving and we will stay with you until he gets here and can join you."

"Oh, thank you . . . I can't begin to tell you . . . I mean, I just didn't know what to do . . ." But then she faltered, her gaze moving from one to the other as the deference the two newcomers had shown and their greeting began to dawn on her. She looked at Hadji doubtfully and said, "But I'm sure you must have other things you need to do. Perhaps you can just tell me how to get to where I need to go. I'm sure if I'm in the right general area that James will be able to find me."

"I could not do that," Hadji objected.

"Absolutely not," Kefira agreed emphatically.

"Now that I have met my friends, I have nothing that cannot wait," Hadji promised her. "I will feel much better knowing you are safely reunited with your family. Come, let us go to his gate and see if his plane has landed yet." Hadji tucked the elderly woman's hand into his arm and escorted her toward gate 12 as Kefira and her father trailed along behind them.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Several hours later, Kefira Subramanian shut the door of her bedroom and tossed her coat onto the bed. She stood in the center of the room for a long moment, allowing the quiet to fill her. It had been a long day . . . a long two weeks, actually . . . and she suddenly found that she was tired. After reuniting Mrs. Addison with her son, they had retrieved Hadji's car and left the airport. Hadji had explained that they were to fly to Maine the next day to meet his father, and from there they would drive to his home. He had arranged for rooms in the city for the night and proposed that they go to the hotel first, where they could freshen up and rest for a bit, before going out for dinner. The suggestion was eagerly accepted.

When they arrived, Kefira discovered that "rooms" meant a three-room suite on the top floor of The Plaza Hotel, overlooking Central Park. Kefira was reminded again of the power this quiet, centered young man commanded. All of the hotel staff seemed to recognize him on sight and treated him with respect. At first, she just assumed it was because of his position as Sultan, but as he spoke with various people, she came to suspect that none of them even knew about his royal status. No, they responded to Hadji's own natural charm, and all of them asked about his father . . . his American father. Hadji had said he was a powerful man, and Kefira was coming to believe that.

Kefira walked over and flipped off the lights in the room, then moved to the window. She stood quietly, gazing out over the city. Christmas time was here and the city was a cascade of lights . . . Christmas decorations shown everywhere, adding to the normal glow of shop lights, street lights, vehicle headlights, theatre marquee lights . . . the city itself seemed alive. From her high perch, she could see groups of people moving along the pathways between the trees. Not far away, a lighted Christmas tree glittered near a small platform. She could see people standing on the platform, and others gathered around the base of it, as though interested in some activity. Kefira wondered what they were doing. Nearby, she could just make out a hansom carriage as it moved slowly along one of the paths. Experimentally, she tried the window and, to her surprise, discovered that it opened willingly. The cold winter air swirled in, whipping her hair about her face and bringing an array of sounds with it . . . car horns, airplanes, laughter, and the distant sound of music. Oblivious to the biting wind, she leaned out, gazing at the panorama, in rapture.

Watching the teeming city below, she couldn't believe how much life had changed for her over the last six weeks. The day after Hadji had left for Maine, the whole family had packed up and returned home to begin preparations for the marriage between Daria and Subir. Initially, Kefira had been concerned that her older sister would be unhappy with her over the way things had turned out. However, she discovered very quickly that her sister was delighted. Daria had been as totally overwhelmed by life in the royal palace as Mrs. Addison had been by the airport. She confided to Kefira that she didn't know what she would have done if the Sultan had shown an interest in her, but she was certain it would have been something radical. The biggest miracle of all was when Kefira discovered that Daria actually _liked_ Subir. So, on that score, everything had turned out perfect. The decision had been made to continue on with the wedding plans exactly as they had originally been made for Kefira, so Daria would be married in June, shortly before Kefira would leave for school.

Kefira still found herself viewing all the changes with awe. It was as though her father's decision to allow her to attend school had opened a magical door. He seemed to have done a complete about-face in his attitude toward her. While he was just as loving as before, he now took everything she said and did very seriously. The day after they arrived home, the two of them took a trip to one of her father's nearby mines. And while this was not an unusual occurrence, what followed had been. Rather than indulgently answering her questions when she asked them, as he always had in the past, now her father began to feed her information at an almost alarming rate. It didn't take her long to realize that, rather than being indulged, she was now being trained. Without it being said, she knew that her father's expectations of her had changed. What he was telling her, he would expect her to remember . . . and be able to apply. For the first time, she was being given a chance . . . a _real_ chance . . . and she was not going to waste it. She was determined to prove that she was capable of running the family's granite mines and she would do whatever it took to make him proud of her.

Over the next month, her father took her to a host of different mining sites, including ones he had never allowed her to visit before. Whenever she was not in school or committed to something else, she was at his side, following him wherever he went, learning anything he would teach her. She went with him as he dealt with a host of problems, sat in on meetings, reviewed purchasing documents and blast records, and, in the end, learned more than she had during the rest of her life combined. And the questions! Her father actually asked for her opinion! All of those years of reading mining journals and technical releases on the latest advances finally paid off. But when she didn't know the answer, she didn't hesitate to tell him so. Then she would go home, research the question, and tell him what she had found first thing the next morning. The approval he expressed at both her knowledge and her behavior made her euphoric. And it wasn't just a private acceptance, expressed only at home or their own sites.

This trip had been more than just travel directly to the United States. It had been planned for quite some time. Her father had long-standing appointments with various suppliers, potential buyers, and customers, and for the first time, he took her with him. They began in Mumbai with a series of meetings with her father's shipping contractor. From there, they flew to Ankara to meet with another mine owner regarding a joint bid for supplying stone and fine sand to a large company in London. After that, they went to Athens to talk with cultural officials who were searching for the right kind of stone to do repair work on some old structures. They continued to Florence, Rome, Brussels, and finally, London, where they presented the joint bid to the contracting agency. In each new city, her father had formally introduced her to his business associates and treated her with the same respect and attention in public as he had within their private holdings.

Kefira found that her father went at a relentless pace, starting early in the morning and working late into the evening, dealing with almost all aspects of his business personally. His primary job, of course, was mining the stone from their various family-held quarries. But unlike most, he did not sell the stone to a wholesaler to market. Their granite was of the highest quality, fine-grained and crystalline, in a wide array of shades that were suitable for a variety of specialty functions. One mine had unprecedented veins of stone, unbroken by faults or cracks. Kefira discovered that her father was a genius at recognizing niche markets and had advertised worldwide in arts publications and trade journals about the merits of this particular variety of granite. The end result was steady orders for large, uncut blocks of this stone for use by sculptors. Kefira smiled to herself as she remembered the thrill of her visit to the Royal Museum of Modern and Ancient Art in Brussels. There, they had attended the unveiling of a new sculpture that was made of this stone. She couldn't believe how satisfying it was to see the end use of the product that they had marketed.

After a moment, Kefira's thoughts returned to the mines. Initially, the men had not taken her seriously. They treated her much as they always had, humoring her like a child. But the difference in her father's attitude was clear, and before long, indulgence turned to disbelief, followed quickly by disdain, anger, and eventually, sullenness. She often came upon groups of men talking among themselves when they didn't know she was around, and the topic was always the same . . . Was the man insane? A mine was no place for a girl. He was acting like he was really going to let her work here. What was he thinking?

But she let it all wash over her. This was little more than what she had expected. She had always known that if her father was ever to relent and allow her to really become involved in the family business, that one of her biggest hurdles would be acceptance among the workers. And the more she worked with her father, the more she came to realize that acceptance was going to be harder to achieve than anything school could ever throw at her. When she contemplated that thought in bed at night, the task seemed daunting. There was so much more to this job than she had ever imagined. Learning the necessary skills was going to be difficult enough . . . having to fight for her place among men she had known all of her life was only going to make it that much worse. But Kefira had resolved early on that if that was the way it had to be, then she would deal with it. There were only three people in her life that she really felt she had to prove herself to. The first two were her parents . . . and the other was Hadji.

Kefira thought about Hadji Singh again as she stood at the window gazing out over the city. She had found herself eagerly awaiting the evenings when she could go to her room and check her e-mail for his notes. He had written to her faithfully, and even when those notes were filled with pain at the thought of his brother's death, she had been glad to receive them. When his brother had been found alive, his joy had been so real, so powerful . . . she had found herself wishing desperately that she could have been there to share it with him.

Kefira shivered suddenly in the chill air. She moved to the bed and picked up her coat, wrapped it around her tightly, and then returned to her place at the window. She sat down on the wide windowsill and gazed out sightlessly as she continued thinking about the young man. He had such a caring nature . . . people mattered to him. Like today at the airport with poor Mrs. Addison. She could tell that her father disapproved of his Sultan taking so much time to worry over some woman he didn't even know. But Kefira understood. Hadji could no more have walked away from that old woman than he could one of his own subjects. It mattered to him that she made it safely to her family. And Kefira knew that if something had happened, and her son had not arrived on time, Hadji would have made it his business to care for her until he could reunite them. It was the kind of person he was. It was that empathy that would make him a good ruler.

But that thought made Kefira shift uncomfortably on her perch. She wondered if Hadji knew what was going on in his home country, and if he didn't, how he would take it when he found out. He had been gone less than a week before word began to circulate that the Sultan was to be married. She never did find out who actually leaked the information, but what she did know led her to believe it was someone inside the royal palace. She had been at school when she learned of it. One of her friends had asked if she had heard the news. When Kefira said no, the girl had informed her that the Sultan was getting married and that everyone was waiting for the official announcement of the name of the lucky girl. Kefira couldn't believe it. She hadn't said a word, but she spent the rest of the day worrying about it. By the time she went home that afternoon, she was half-convinced there would be a message from Hadji saying that he had chosen to marry someone else. There _had_ been a message waiting when she got home, but it was filled with the latest news of his father, his brother, his girlfriend, and the boy, Brandon. The note had ended with the fact that he missed her and wished she could be there to share in their happiness at having his brother safely home. There hadn't been a single word about a marriage announcement. Over the next several days she had received other messages from him and they were all the same . . . talk of his family, what he was doing, the research he was participating in, how much he was looking forward to her visit, and other small talk. She finally concluded that he knew nothing at all about the leak from the palace.

Excitement was running high among the populace over the rumors, and everyone was speculating about the identity of the girl. Initially, the phone had rung almost constantly with congratulations for Kefira's sister. Many assumed that Daria was the chosen one, and everyone was surprised to discover that she was to marry Subir. No one asked if the chosen girl might be Kefira, which hadn't surprised her at all. When people asked her father what had transpired in the palace, he simply responded that he had some beneficial business meetings with the Sultan, but that he could not discuss their nature. He always left the distinct impression the discussions involved the mines. Of course, his change in attitude toward Kefira tended to reinforce that notion, as well. And when Kefira was asked, she simply replied that she had spent her time in the library. _Well, it is not a lie,_ she thought, smiling with wry humor. But her smile faded abruptly as she recalled the event that had occurred just days before their trip began.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


**

Subramanian Home  
Bangalore

**

  


Kefira sat at a table in the south garden of her family's home. Mid-afternoon sunlight spilled around her shaded nook and a breeze stirred her hair as she finished checking her answers on the practice test she had just completed. Her college entrance exams were in two days and she was still working to get ready for them. She contemplated the results with a frown. A 92% score on the advanced mathematics section wasn't bad, but she really had hoped for better. She sighed and turned her attention back to the exam. _Well, let me see which ones I missed,_ she thought. Before she had the chance, however, her younger sister, Maia, interrupted her. Maia rarely got flustered. Her calm, spiritual outlook usually left her placid and somewhat disconnected from things going on around her. More than once, Kefira had caught herself envying the girl's poise under stress. But today, Maia was flustered. She erupted out of the side door and came running across the garden as fast as she could. Once, about halfway across, she stumbled and almost fell. Kefira watched in astonishment as Maia came running up to her and began tugging on her arm frantically.

"Come quickly . . . important," she gasped, struggling to catch her breath, "Mother . . . looking for you . . . hurry!" Kefira rose obediently. She had no idea what was wrong, but Maia's agitation was contagious. Kefira knew that it must be serious for her placid sister to be this upset.

"What is wrong? Where is mother? Has something happened?"

Maia shook her head, still panting for breath, "Your room . . . go . . . no time . . . questions. Mother will explain," she managed to gasp out before shoving Kefira in the direction of the house. Kefira gathered up her skirts and began to run for the door. Maia stayed where she was, sinking down onto Kefira's vacated seat to catch her breath.

As Kefira burst into her room, she observed Daria frantically rummaging around in her closet. The older girl grabbed two saris and held one up in each hand, saying to her, "Which one? Quickly!"

"I like the green one," Kefira responded automatically, and then demanded, "What is going on? Has something happened?" At that instant, her mother, Anila, arrived with a handful of jewelry. Laying it on the dresser, she crossed swiftly and began stripping Kefira's clothes as Daria advanced on her with makeup and a hairbrush. "Mother! What is . . . what are you . . . "

"Hush!" her mother told her urgently. "Be quiet, cooperate, and listen. The Royal Regent, Her Excellency Neela Singh has just arrived with another man. They are both in with your father and you have been summoned, as well. It is vital that you make a good impression on these people." Daria stepped back quickly as her mother began to drape the clean garment around her.

"But what does she want?" Kefira demanded as she began sliding bracelets onto her arms. She winced at Daria's hasty attempts to brush her hair.

"I have no idea," Anila replied as she fastened a tiered gold necklace around her daughter's neck. "But you just remember that she is the Royal Regent and will one day be your mother-in-law. You are to treat her with the utmost respect. Be polite at all times. Do not speak unless asked a direct question. Do not interrupt your father. Be a lady. Speak softly and do not get off on . . . "

"Yes, yes, Mother, I know," Kefira interrupted. She kicked her shoes off and gestured to Daria for a different pair lying on the floor of the closet. Daria snatched them up and set them at Kefira's feet. "I will behave. There. Anything else?"

Her mother and sister surveyed her quickly and then her mother shook her head and said, "No. That will have to do. Go on. Your father and our guests are in the library. You have already made them wait long enough. Oh, and they have already been offered refreshment and have declined, so you will not need to do so again." Kefira nodded once and left quickly.

Soon, she found herself standing before the door to the family's library, which also served as her father's study. She took a deep breath and knocked firmly. At the sound of her father's voice, she opened the door and stepped into the room. The tension was so thick it took her breath away. Rajeev was seated in the chair behind his desk. He was scowling fiercely as she came in and she did not miss the fact that both of his hands were doubled over into fists as they rested on the wood surface in front of him. His stance warned her that things were not as they should be, although he said nothing. An older man Kefira did not know was seated on the divan against the nearby wall. He was of moderate build and had thick graying hair, heavy eyebrows and restless black eyes that never seemed still. His face was totally blank as she entered, but the stiffness of his posture led her to believe that he was angry, as well.

And then there was Neela. At first, Kefira could see nothing of her other than her outline. She was standing in front of the large west windows of her father's study with her back to the room, gazing out into the garden. Sun streamed through the glass, making Neela seem little more than a silhouette. After a brief moment, she turned back into the room, and Kefira had the chance to look at her more closely. Kefira's first impression was one of a total lack of color. Her skin was pale and flawless. Her hair had grayed until it was totally silver. Her sari was a clean, snowy white that draped around her elegantly . The tiers of jewelry that hung around her neck and encircled her wrist also emphasized the sense of colorlessness. All Indian women wore jewelry, it seemed a hallmark of their culture. But where most women, Kefira included, wore yellow gold jewelry, Neela's was all white gold. As she turned to face Kefira, her image and bearing were highly intimidating. _As she meant it to be,_ a tiny voice in Kefira's mind whispered. _She wants something._

Kefira's eyes locked with her father's for a fraction of a second before she turned to the older woman and bowed deeply. "Excellency. I bid you welcome and apologize for my tardiness. It is an honor to see you again so soon." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father relax fractionally.

Neela gazed at her silently for a moment, and Kefira got the uncomfortable feeling that she was being sized up. Finally, Neela replied, "Hello, child. It is a pleasure to see you, as well. I was sorry your father found it necessary to leave the palace so quickly after my son's departure. I had hoped to have the opportunity to get to know you better."

Kefira could sense her father tense again and she replied smoothly, "I regret the missed opportunity as well, Excellency. However, urgent family business called my father home and he required our assistance. I would be a poor daughter, indeed, if I did not do all in my power to help when my family requires it." A small sound to her left made Neela turn her head sharply to stare at Rajeev.

Kefira shot a quick glance at her father and saw that he had relaxed back into his chair. His hands rested easily in his lap now, and his face showed a pleasantly helpful expression. However, Kefira could sense an undercurrent of dry humor as he said, "My daughter is very diligent about supporting her family in every way she can." From behind her, she heard the stranger shift uneasily.

Neela's gaze flickered between the two of them restlessly, trying to read their bland expressions. Finally, she replied, "A fine quality, and one that will be a great asset when she becomes Sultana." Kefira stiffened slightly at the finality of that statement. Hadji had told her that the choice would be hers . . . she could refuse his offer of marriage if she chose. But before Kefira could say anything, Neela continued relentlessly. "And that it why I am here. I believe it is important that Kefira and I become better acquainted. Therefore, I am here to take her back to the royal Palace for a brief stay . . . say, until spring or so."

Kefira was stunned. _This_ was why the woman was here? Surely Hadji had told his mother about Kefira's planned trip to Maine. But in the next instant, she knew the trip was the reason Neela was here . . . to try to block it. Kefira turned and moved swiftly to stand behind her father, putting both him and the desk between herself and the Royal Regent, as he replied evenly, "As I have explained to you before, Excellency, that simply will not be possible. Kefira is preparing for the university entrance exams, which she will take in two days time. Once they are complete, the two of us are to leave for a series of meetings, following which she is expected in the United States to meet with the Sultan's American family. The schedule simply does not allow for her to spend time at the royal palace at the moment."

Neela whirled and paced the length of the room restlessly. She stopped and stared at the ceiling-high case of books before turning back to Rajeev and saying harshly, "You _know_ that this is inappropriate. The girl should not even be leaving this house, let alone thinking of attending school. And as for the question of her going to the United States, it is absolutely out of the question. It goes against **ALL** tradition."

Rajeev spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Perhaps, Excellency, but this wish comes directly from the Sultan, himself, and I am really not in a position to question him. Also, this is the reason I am accompanying my daughter. I am to assure myself of the propriety of her accommodations and the character of those she is to visit. If I am in any way disturbed by what I find, rest assured I will bring her directly back here."

"And I will be staying with Dr. Quest and his family," Kefira added. "His reputation is impeccable. Surely, Excellency, you do not question the integrity of the man who was so instrumental in raising your own son." Kefira let the implied question hang, giving the woman a challenging look. As they stared at each other, Kefira felt herself go cold. The emotion that raged behind the other woman's eyes was frightening. She was jealous . . . jealous of the loyalty and love that Hadji felt toward the Quests! But surely she must know that if she blocked this trip to America it would do little more than drive a further wedge between her and her son. But then Kefira saw the woman's intent clearly for the first time. She was to be _bait_! Neela wanted her son in Bangalore. And if Kefira could not leave the country, she was hoping that Hadji's feeling for her were strong enough to draw him back and hold him here permanently. Suddenly, Kefira was furious.

Neela's eyes fell in the face of that anger and she replied, "No, of course not. Benton Quest is a fine man, and I was very lucky to have someone of his caliber take an interest in my son." But then Neela drew herself up into her most regal pose and continued, "But that does not change the fact that it goes against all of our traditions for the woman who is betrothed to the Sultan of Bangalore to be taking trips to strange places, attending schools outside of her own country, and living outside of her father's house. There are proprieties which much be followed."

"That is very true, Excellency, but . . . " Rajeev began, but Kefira cut him off sharply.

"As I understand it, _Excellency_," her voice dripping with sarcasm, "_**THAT**_ was one of the reasons that the Sultan made the decision _**NOT**_ to formally announce the betrothal. But somehow, at least_** PART**_ of that information has become public." Kefira literally spat the words at the older woman, clearly signaling her anger. Rajeev turned and laid a placating hand on his daughter's arm, but Kefira did not relent. She stared at Neela, practically daring her to deny the leak. "How do you suppose that happened?"

It was a war of wills and neither woman appeared willing to back down. Finally, Neela replied haughtily, "An unfortunate affair. We have still been unable to determine who allowed that information to get out."

_Oh, yes, I am just certain she does not know who leaked it,_ thought Kefira sarcastically. _Just as I am certain that she called Hadji for his advice on how to handle the situation._ She paused, an idea suddenly occurring to her. For a split second she hesitated, wondering if it really was a wise move, but the expression on Neela's face decided her. She smiled at the older woman suddenly and came back around the desk to face her. With unexpected ease, she said sweetly, "But I do not want to cause distress. So I think we should do what **TRADITION** dictates in situations like these . . ." Neela's triumphant expression and her father's astonished one caused her private amusement as she continued, " . . . and contact the Sultan for his direction in the matter."

The smile on Neela's face disappeared abruptly, to be replaced by one of alarm. "No!" Frantically, she tried to recover. "No, that is not necessary. My son does not need to be bothered with such a silly thing." Kefira could see her scrambling to find some reason to prevent her from calling Hadji. "Furthermore, I do not have any good way to reach him at the moment."

Rajeev stood and came to put his arm around Kefira's shoulders. "No, I have to agree with my daughter. I believe the most sensible thing is to get the Sultan to settle this matter. His Excellency was very clear with me about his desire for the two of us to visit. He is expecting us. After all, we will need to contact him if we decide not to go, since it will be necessary for us to notify him of our change in plans."

"And reaching him is not a problem, Excellency," Kefira assured Neela calmly. "I have a number where I can reach him at any time, day or night." She moved gracefully toward the desk and reached for the telephone in her most helpful manner. "It should not take me any time at all to get through, and then we can get the entire matter resolved . . . "

"No, I do not believe that will be necessary." Startled, the three of them turned to stare at the man sitting on the divan against the far wall. They had totally forgotten he was still in the room. He rose fluidly and came to bow respectfully to Neela. "I believe Mr. Subramanian and his daughter are correct, Excellency. It would be . . . inappropriate . . . for them to cancel at such a late date, particularly when the Sultan is expecting them. Perhaps it would be best if plans continue as they are for now, and that Miss Subramanian come to the royal palace for a prolonged visit at another time. Surely, there will be time enough to arrange such a visit in the very near future." The man turned and gave Rajeev a long look. Kefira's father inclined his head, acknowledging the thinly veiled order. The man nodded. "So. That should settle the matter for the time being. May I suggest, Excellency," the man said, bowing again to Neela, "that we should take our leave here. It is a long trip back and I am sure that Miss Subramanian needs to return to her studies."

For a minute, Kefira wondered if Neela would let it go. She stood rigidly in front of the two of them, appearing extremely angry. Finally, she nodded her head once, stiffly, and replied, "Yes, we should be going. I will contact you when you return from the United States, Rajeev Subramanian, and we will make arrangements for your daughter to come to stay at the palace." Kefira shivered slightly at her tone and wondered briefly if, once there, she would ever be allowed to leave again. Taking her imagination in hand, Kefira joined her father in bowing respectfully to their visitors. Neela said stiffly, "Please give my regards to my son when you see him." And with that, they swept out of the library and were gone.

Kefira and her father stared after them for a long moment before Kefira finally said, "I am not certain I _want_ to go visit at the royal palace, Father."

Rajeev sighed, "Unfortunately, you may not have a choice, Kefira. I do not believe that "invitation" was optional."

"Who _was_ that man? I have never seen him before."

Her father chuckled dryly and replied, "Perhaps a stay in the royal palace would do you some good, after all. _That,_ my daughter, is Arun Birla. He is the head of the Sultan's advisory council and an extremely influential man. He is one of the wealthiest men in Bangalore, as well as being our representative to Parliament in India, and a member of the Rajya Sabha. And, daughter," Rajeev caught Kefira's shoulders and brought her around to face him, "he is a very dangerous and powerful man. You tread carefully around him. He is not a man to alienate or anger."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


**

New York City

**

  


Kefira was thinking of Arun Birla now, as she gazed out on the teeming lights of New York City. Even after having reflected on it numerous times since that encounter, she could not decide what the purpose of his visit had been. Certainly, Neela's had been clear enough . . . she wanted Hadji back in Bangalore . . . probably with all of his ties with the Quests severed for good. But Arun Birla was another matter. She simply couldn't figure out what it is he wanted . . . or gained, for that matter. And she really hadn't seen enough of him to get a feel for him. He had carefully stayed in the background and allowed the entire scene to play out while he watched. Had he been using Neela to gauge her? See how far she could be pushed? She thought it said something that all of them had completely forgotten he was there until he decided to remind them. And then, he appeared to completely take over the situation. Neela had definitely bowed to his wishes . . . she hadn't wanted to let it go. And yet, he had voiced no opinions on the issue of her schooling, her unofficial betrothal to the Sultan, or her impending visit to the United States. For some reason, that made her nervous. _Yes,_ she thought somewhat grimly to herself, _I will discuss this with Hadji . . . very, very soon._

As if on cue, a knock sounded and Hadji stepped in the door. Behind him, Kefira could see her father. Hadji asked, "Have you rested?"

Kefira rose and turned to shut the window. "As much as necessary for the time being. I was just sitting looking out the window. All of the lights and sounds and activity are marvelous."

Hadji offered her his arm, and as she took it he replied, "Well, then why don't we descend down among all the activity and see about getting some dinner?"

"That sounds wonderful," she replied, and set her uneasy thoughts aside for later. 

A short time later, Kefira found herself seated beside a large window that looked out onto the crowds that moved up and down 48th Street. She sat quietly, watching the people move past the window and listening inattentively as Hadji and her father discussed the various business meetings the two of them had attended during the last two weeks. _I feel strange,_ she thought to herself. Disconnected from reality. Everything around her seemed muted in some way. She could hear Hadji and her father, and yet it was as though their conversation was coming to her from a great distance. She decided that she really was more tired than she had realized. So for a long while, she was perfectly content to sit quietly, eat her dinner, and just float along.

She snapped back to reality with a start, however, when she heard her father say, "The Royal Regent paid us a visit a few days before we left Bangalore." Instinct told Kefira that Hadji would not take this news very well and his inarticulate exclamation of surprise and dismay confirmed her suspicion. Kefira had really wanted to tell Hadji about this herself . . . and at a time of her own choosing. She caught her father's eye hastily and shook her head at him just fractionally before Hadji replied sharply,

"My mother? At your home? What did she want?"

Rajeev had no way of knowing the amount of tension that appeared to be building between the young Sultan and his mother, because Kefira had not mentioned the episode she had seen between the two of them that morning in the royal palace. However, Rajeev was a good businessman and could read the signs his daughter was passing him clearly. Without missing a beat, he replied easily "I believe it was just a courtesy call. She and Mr. Birla stopped for a brief time, paid their respects to both myself and Kefira, and then went on their way."

"When was this?" There was an edge to the young man's voice that set alarm bells ringing in both Kefira and Rajeev's minds.

"It was three days before we left for Mumbai," Kefira supplied. Hadji turned to look at her. The dark expression on his face assured Kefira that she was correct in her original instinct . . . they did not want to discuss this issue in a public restaurant. She smiled at him reassuringly. "It was a perfectly civil conversation, Hadji. As father said, they paid their respects, inquired how the plans for our trip were going, and asked when we planned to leave."

"She caused no . . . trouble . . . then?" The pause in the sentence as he searched for the word he wanted was eloquent. 

"None at all," Rajeev assured him. Kefira did not miss the veiled look her father shot in her direction at that statement.

Kefira ignored the look and smiled at Hadji instead, saying, "In fact, she extended a very cordial invitation for me to visit at the palace sometime in the near future." She looked at him quizzically and reached across the table to lay a gentle hand on his arm. "What is wrong? Surely there is no reason your mother should not visit at my family's home . . ."

For an instant, Hadji studied her closely, as though trying to read her mind. Finally, he released his breath in a long sigh, and said, "No. No, of course not. It was just a . . . surprise. Mother had said nothing to me of any intention of visiting you and your family."

"Well, the Lady Neela has a mind of her own," Rajeev said. "It is what makes her good as your Regent. And she is certainly welcome in our home whenever she chooses to visit, as is any member of your advisory council." Rajeev chuckled. "Her visit certainly was a surprise, though. We definitely were not expecting it."

"Well, as long as there was no difficulty . . ." Hadji replied reluctantly. He was silent for a moment, then sighed again and straightened. "Are we finished, then? Perhaps we should go. You have traveled a great distance, and we still have the trip to Maine tomorrow. It would probably be best to get back to the hotel so that you can rest."

"A wise choice, Excellency," Rajeev agreed. Then, with a trace of humor, he added, "Before my daughter falls asleep in her dinner plate."

"I am fine!" Kefira replied indignantly, desperately attempting to stifle the yawn that suddenly gripped her.

"Perhaps," was her father's calm reply, "but I believe that both of us could use some rest . . . as could the Sultan, I expect."

Hadji rose, signaling for the bill, and added, "Definitely. It was a long drive from home and I had business for Father that I had to attend to, as well. I am more than ready. I also need to call Father and pass on the information I received today, so I believe we should return."

"All right," Kefira agreed, secretly relieved. If the truth were known, she would be happy to get back to the hotel, too. "But can we take our time and look in windows as we walk back?"

Hadji laughed as he held her coat for her. "Of course. That is what one does in New York . . ."


	5. Chapter 4 Sunday, December 19

**

Chapter 4 

**

Sunday, December 19

Quest Compound

  


"Jonny!" Benton Quest stood at the foot of the staircase in the main house and looked up, calling again. "Jonny!"

A disembodied voice answered him from somewhere above. "Yeah, Dad?"

"I have to drive to Bangor to meet Dr. Liu's plane. Do you and Jessie want to ride along and keep me company?"

Jonny's tousled blonde head appeared over the railing. He contemplated the offer, then shook his head regretfully. "I'd love to, Dad, but I probably shouldn't. I've got a History term paper due the end of the week, and I'm still doing the research for it. I'd better stick around here and try to finish up, so I can start writing the thing. But, hang on, and I'll ask Jess if she wants to go."

Benton could hear his son relaying the offer to Jessie. After a brief wait, Jessie's head joined Jonny's at the railing. Benton could see her hesitate as she considered the trip. Finally, she shook her head. "I think I'll pass, as well, Dr. Quest. To be honest, Dr. Liu isn't one of my favorite people. His attitude toward women irritates me, and he's really good at getting under my skin. You'll probably be better off if I'm not around."

Benton nodded in understanding. "I'm afraid he is a bit biased when it comes to what he considers the 'proper role' of women in this world."

Jessie snorted derisively. "If '"biased'" means thinking all women should be barefoot, pregnant and never allowed out of the house, then you're right. One of these days, that man is going to get a very rude awakening."

Benton laughed. "Now, Jessie. He's not quite _that_ bad. He's just very traditional. And subservient women are very much a part of the classic Japanese culture."

"Yeah, well, this isn't Japan and that man needs to evolve past the dark ages." She shook her head again. "I'll just stay here and let you deal with him. It will make life easier."

"All right. I won't be back until late. Hadji's plane isn't scheduled to get in until almost eight tonight. Also, Dr. Liu is only here for the day. He deliberately scheduled a layover in Bangor so we can review the most recent research data on the project we're collaborating on. If you should need me for anything, I'll be at The Phenix Inn. If the Dawsons can't track me down, then try the cell phone."

Jonny nodded. "Okay, not a problem."

"Call before you leave Bangor so we'll know when to expect you back," Jessie added. "The roads have been slippery, and if something happens . . ."

Benton laughed. "Yes, Mother. You two stay out of trouble today and I'll see you later."

Shrugging on his coat, Benton grabbed his hat and briefcase, and let himself out of the front door. The two young people turned and retreated to Jonny's room. Jessie moved directly to the window and stood watching, as Benton got into his car, started the engine, and drove off down the road toward the main gate.

Behind her, Jonny said quietly, "IRIS, set security systems to monitor and notify us of any approach to the outer perimeter."

"ACKNOWLEDGED," was the sedate response.

"Are we going to go back to studying now?" Jessie asked without turning. There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Eventually," Jonny said, coming up behind his girlfriend and putting his arms around her. "Now, where were we?" He gathered her hair, moved it to one side, and began kissing her neck.

Jessie stood with her eyes closed and head tilted, concentrating on the feeling of his hands and lips on her body. She turned in his arms and said, "Well, we were a little more involved than that . . ."

Jonny laughed low in his throat as his lips fastened onto hers. Her arms twined around his neck and she leaned into him willingly, returning his kiss with abandon. He felt only the slightest twinge in his left shoulder as he picked her up and carried her back to the bed. He laid her down gently and then slid down beside her, never allowing their lips to separate.

They hadn't lied to Dr. Quest . . . they **HAD** been studying. At least, up until 20 minutes ago. Jessie had been working through some complex calculus equations and Jonny had been using the internet to gather information for his term paper. Both of them had reached a temporary stopping place at about the same time. Jonny had leaned back in his chair and flexed his still-healing shoulder gingerly. Seeing him wince, Jessie had then risen to stand behind him, and gently massaged the aching muscles. He had closed his eyes, enjoying the nuances of caring and love that seemed to flow from her touch. Somewhere along the way, simple pleasure had changed to desire. Jonny had risen, pushed the door to his room closed so only a crack remained, and had drawn her over to his bed. They had lain there, kissing and caressing each other, allowing the passion and desire to build. The knowledge that Benton Quest was right downstairs had served to curb their activities . . . at least a little.

But now they were alone and the curbing presence was gone. Jonny slid his tongue into Jessie's mouth, probing and exploring gently. She responded without hesitation, mirroring his actions. She reached up and ran feather-light fingertips along the arch of his ear, caressing his earlobe gently, before moving down his neck and tracing a light pattern around the collar of his t-shirt. Gasping, he broke free of her lips. She took advantage of the opportunity and kissed the pulse point under his jaw. Then, nuzzling and licking softly, she covered his throat and neck with kisses.

Jonny caught her hands, tucked them against his chest and propped himself up on an elbow. He knew from experience that if he allowed her to continue he would become so aroused that he wouldn't be able to control his reactions. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, eyes, temples, cheeks, nose, and chin before returning again to her lips. Slowly and deliberately, he began to use his right hand to caress her body.

"Jonny!" Jessie moaned loudly. Her breathing altered, coming more quickly. Fleetingly, Jonny grinned. Oh, yes, Jessica Bannon was very much her mother's daughter . . . she could be just as noisy when aroused as Estella ever dared to be. Jonny remembered clearly how he and Jessie would sit and giggle, slightly embarrassed, over the sounds that came from Race's room when he and Estella really got going. But last week they decided that maybe it wasn't quite so funny . . . when they discovered the hard way that Jessie was _too much_ like her mother in this respect.

Race had flown back from Colombia to assist Benton with planning a big meeting about the superconductor project. With their fathers safely involved out in the lighthouse, Jessie and Jonny had started an idle necking session on the living room sofa. But somehow, recently, any physical activity between them seemed prone to almost immediate escalation into passion. It didn't even take physical contact any longer. Sometimes, simply looking at each other was enough. That night, a simple kiss had swiftly led to full-blown, rationality-numbing desire. Their fathers totally forgotten, things rapidly got out of hand. Jessie had whispered and moaned to Jonny frantically, her hands tangled in his hair, as he ran his lips and tongue over her. Jonny had never heard her that way before and his body's reaction to the aural stimulation was electrifying. They had been on the brink of going way too far when a caress from him had caused her to arch her back and cry out sharply . . . a loud, incoherent cry of pleasure that had sent echoes of desire cascading through his entire body.

But, to their horror, that cry was answered almost immediately by the sound of her father's alarmed call. They both heard the back door slam sharply and Race and Benton's voices calling their names in fear. It had only been instinct, luck, and quick reflexes that had saved them from their fathers' wrath. Jessie had catapulted to her feet, straightening her clothes frantically. Jonny had launched himself back onto the sofa, grabbing his Lit book and dumping it into his lap to help cover the 'evidence'. As Jessie had cleared the sofa she cracked her shin soundly on the coffee table. When their fathers had entered the room an moment later, Jonny had been staring at her in concern as she rubbed the injured leg, swearing. When questioned sharply by her father, Jessie explained that she had been sitting on the sofa studying -- _thank God her books were lying on the table at the other end of the sofa_ -- and had decided to get up and add another log to the fire -- _thank God it had been burning low._ She hadn't seen Bandit laying on the floor near her feet -- thank God the little dog was still in the room -- had stumbled over him -- _thank God he couldn't talk_ -- and struck her shin on the coffee table. Race had inspected her injured leg closely and announced that he thought she would live. He then offered them a stern look that said he didn't believe a word of their story, but chose not to call them on it.

But now their fathers weren't here . . . and wouldn't be for a long time. And that realization caused Jonny to pause. His head was just clear enough for some words of warning his father had expressed to him not so very long ago to surface. Reluctantly, he leaned over and kissed Jessie again before pulling back and becoming still. He gazed down at her, waiting, until finally she opened her eyes and looked at him quizzically. He smiled and stroked her cheek gently with the back of his fingers. "You are so beautiful," he said softly.

She smiled back and kissed his fingers. "If you say so."

He sighed and looked away for a moment. When he looked down at her again, a small frown of concern had formed between her eyes. "Jonny?" she questioned softly.

"We're playing with dynamite here, Jess. Every time I touch you it makes me want you so badly it hurts. Sooner or later, one of our parents is going to catch us at this, and the shit's really going to hit the fan.

"Our parents aren't here," she pointed out practically.

"Yeah. I know. That's the point. My dad told me not too long ago that I needed to be careful, because feelings as strong as the ones I have for you can sneak up on me when I least expect it and get both of us into trouble. That incident last week proved to me that he was right."

"There's nothing wrong with what we're feeling for each other," she said defensively. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and behind it, a growing fear.

Hastily, he reassured her. "Of course there isn't! We love each other and we're ready to take the next step. But our parents aren't. And to be honest, I don't like to think about what might happen if your dad should find us doing something like what we were doing last week. _You_ say he's pleased we're a couple. I say that if he caught us, that attitude could change rapidly . . . and I might not live through the transition."

Jessie laughed as Jonny sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and tried to breathe evenly. "I think I need a shower . . . a really, really **COLD** shower."

Jessie propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him for awhile. Finally, she sighed and sat up as well. Sitting beside him she said, "Why don't we get our stuff and go downstairs? I think it will be a lot easier to concentrate if we're not lying here on your bed."

Gathering up their books, they carried them downstairs and settled into the family room to continue studying. Jessie stacked her books on the end table at the far end of the sofa while Jonny stacked his on the worktable next to the computer. Then he set about lighting a fire in the big fireplace . . . for some reason, he felt cold. Jessie went and got sodas for both of them. For awhile, they worked in silence. But soon, Jonny began to find it hard to stay focused on what he was doing. His thoughts kept drifting to Jessie and their relationship. Finally, he sighed, and turning from the computer, he said, "Jess, are you at a good stopping place?"

She looked up. "Yeah, I can be. What's up?"

"Can we talk?"

She stuck a piece of paper into her math book and set it aside. "Sure."

He came over and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, facing her. "I think we need to talk . . . about us."

"That sounds ominous . . . what about us?"

He thought for a minute, then asked her, "Where are we headed? With our relationship, I mean."

Slowly, she responded, "I'm not sure what you mean. I thought we had worked all of this out. You know that I want us to be together . . . permanently."

"No," he said, looking at her steadily. "I mean physically. We're kinda pushing the boundaries, aren't we?" He suddenly paused, as though hearing what he had just said. Hastily, he added, "It's not that I don't _want_ to make love with you . . ."

Jessie sighed in frustration. "Jonny, we're not gonna get this worked out if we're touchy about it. If we really are as mature as we believe we are, we can talk about this like adults."

"All right," he sighed. "Jess, I **WANT** you. And I don't mean just having you as my girlfriend. I mean I want to hold you and kiss you and make love to you over and over and over. And . . . these feelings just get stronger the more we're together."

She cocked her head at him. "Do you think I feel any differently? Jonny, I can't begin to describe the way you make me feel. And, to be honest, I have to say that I don't want to wait any more. I'm tired of going to bed at night and lying there so wound up that I . . ." She trailed off.

"That you what?" he prompted. She gazed down at her lap, looking uncomfortable. "You said 'discuss this like adults'," he reminded her. "Come on, what were you going to say?"

She sighed deeply. "It's just that sometimes I want you so much . . . and then I go to bed, and I lie there . . . and I can't sleep. All I can think about is how badly I want to . . . I mean . . . I don't know what to do . . . and sometimes I have to . . . to . . . relieve . . . the tension . . . "

He looked at her, confused. "Relieve . . . ? What do you . . ." He stopped as comprehension dawned. She simply sat there, gazing at him intently. "Oh," he said weakly. "I never thought . . ."

"You thought I couldn't have feelings like that?" she asked quietly.

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, not sure what to say. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry. I never thought about it, I guess."

She took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Jonny, I want you to make love to me. I feel like it's the next logical step in our relationship. And I'm ready for that step. I think I have been for awhile."

"I want you, too, Jess."

"What's bothering you, then? We're both virgins, so it's not like we have to worry about sexually transmitted diseases or anything. And you don't need to worry about getting me pregnant . . . I've already taken care of that."

_That_ startled him. "What do you mean, you've 'taken care of that'?"

Jessie sat for a minute with her head bowed, staring at the fabric of the sofa. Finally, she looked up at him. "Jonny, my parents are two very different people, you know that."

"Yeah. So?"

She sighed, "So, my mom is a lot of things, but, most of all, she is a realist. She knows where our relationship is headed . . . she could see it coming. And before she left for Colombia, the two of us had a really long talk." Jonny stirred uneasily, but Jessie smiled at him reassuringly. "Don't worry. She's not mad or anything. She understands." Jessie hesitated for a long moment and then seemed to make a decision. "Do you remember when I told you that something seemed to be up between my dad and mom while we were all in Colombia . . . something they weren't talking about?"

Jonny nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I guess they thought she was pregnant again. They'd kinda lost their heads and had been . . ." she stumbled a little, searching for the right words ". . . having sex . . . making love . . . ohhhh . . . whatever . . . without any protection."

Jonny struggled to assimilate that information. "You mean he got her . . . you mean, they . . . you mean, she's . . . **AFTER ALL THE LECTURES THEY'VE GIVEN US???**" They stared at each other wordlessly. Suddenly, the corner of Jessie's mouth began to twitch and she giggled. Watching her, the ludicrousness of the entire situation struck him, and Jonny began to chuckle. Jessie quickly joined him and before long, they were both laughing hysterically.

"So, is she?" he gasped finally, through spasms of laughter, "Pregnant, I mean."

Jessie shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes. "No. They jumped to conclusions. When they got back here, she checked with Dr. Mason and she said that her system was just screwed up due to stress." Jessie snickered. "I told her it sounded more like a guilty conscience."

Jonny chuckled. "What did she say to _that_?"

"She swatted me with a pillow."

Jonny chuckled again, but sobered suddenly as he thought of something else. "Was this before or after . . ." he paused. "I mean, did they announce . . . uh . . ."

"You mean, did they decide to get remarried and announce it _because_ they thought she was pregnant?" He nodded. "No, they knew before they made that decision. But you know, something tells me I may end up with a brother or sister out of the deal, anyway. I think they want another kid."

Jonny thought about that. "That would actually be pretty cool, you know?"

"Yeah. I think so, too. At any rate, because of that, Mom and I had a really long talk before she left. I was pretty candid about our relationship and what I wanted."

"What did she say?"

"That she wasn't surprised. She also said that even though she really can't encourage or condone it, she understands that there is nothing she can do to prevent us from doing anything we make up our minds to do. And, finally, she said that if we were really serious about it, she expected us to be sensible and mature . . . and that means being really, really careful. She assured me that waiting to confirm whether or not I was pregnant would be no fun."

"For either one of us," Jonny affirmed. "So what did you do?"

"Mom took me to Dr. Mason. She did an exam and they made sure that when the time came, I would be prepared. I've been on them now since before Mom and Dad left for Colombia." Jessie watched him assess that information. After a moment, she said softly, "But that's not all you're worried about, either, is it?"

He reached out and gently cupped her cheek in one hand. "No. Not really. I knew that when the time came, we would take care of that issue. Do you know what my biggest fear is?" he asked her. She looked at him and shook her head wordlessly. "I'm so afraid that our parents will find out and decide that we shouldn't be living under the same roof . . . that they will send one of us away and we won't be able to see each other again. I've just been through that and I don't think I could stand it again."

Jessie slid over and put her arms around him. Laying her head on his shoulder she replied, "Jonny, your father would never send you away. And I wouldn't leave. Not as long as you're here. I won't be separated from you like that. I'd go live in your play cave first."

He held her tightly, his cheek against the top of her head. "But, don't you see, Jess, it would be so easy for them to do. We're both applying to college now. It would be simple enough for them to say that you have to attend one school . . . like Stanford or Berkeley, and I have to go to Columbia or somewhere else out here on the east coast. They could put an entire continent between us again. They have the leverage to do it!"

Jessie pulled back and gazed at up at him for a long time. Finally, she said gently, "No, they don't. Because you see, I've learned a lot about myself in the last several months . . . about what I want and need . . . and can accept. My mother had a lesson for me not long ago, and I learned it very, very well. I can do _anything_ if I decide it's what I really want. Somehow, I will always find a way. If they tried to separate us like that . . . well," she shrugged. "I meant what I said about your play cave . . . or it's equivalent. I don't need their support or their money to go to school. It would be easier, yes. But if they were to tell me that I had to go to school where _they_ chose just to separate us, then I would tell them to shove it. I would follow you to wherever you chose to go and I would work my own way through. It might take longer, but I would still get there." She paused for a long moment, gazing up at him with a very serious expression on her face. Then, with quiet conviction, she finished, "Because, in the long run, Jonny Quest, _you_ are my future. And if they can't understand that . . . well . . ." She shrugged in a way that caused a chill to run down Jonny's back. _She really would do it,_ he realized. She felt that strongly about it. She gazed at him a bit longer, then kissed him softly on the lips, and sighed. Suddenly, she chuckled.

"What?" he asked her.

"I was just thinking how much of a role reversal this is."

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Well, _you're_ usually the impulsive one and _I'm_ the one that's trying to be calm and sensible."

"Well, it's something we should be calm and sensible about."

"You're probably right," she said noncommittally. She smiled at him and asked, "How about some lunch? It's after 1:00."

"Lunch sounds good," he agreed hastily. The idea of a routine task appealed to him right now. He wanted a little time to think.

The two of them went to the kitchen, and as Jonny pulled things from the refrigerator to make sandwiches, Jessie began heating up some leftover soup. As they worked together in companionable silence, Jonny thought about their earlier discussion. Unknown to their parents, he and Jessie had made a permanent commitment to each other after the family had returned from Denver. It had been kind of funny . . . the night of the Christmas Festival, he and Jessie had told Hadji that they had decided they were going to get married. It was a subject they hadn't even discussed yet. But when he had first mentioned it to his brother, he knew it was true. Their commitment to each other _was_ that permanent. Later, he had talked with Jessie about it . . . tried to apologize for jumping the gun and making assumptions about their relationship. But Jessie wouldn't accept the apology . . . said there was no reason to apologize for something that was simple fact.

He also remembered telling Hadji that they were keeping it from their parents because Race and their father weren't ready for that news. Benton Quest was having a very difficult time dealing with all the evidence that his kids were growing up. Jonny supposed that every parent went through that stage at one time or another. But their father was really struggling right now. The discussion that the two of them had while Jessie was in Colombia had really rocked him. Jonny supposed it had simply brought home to him that his sons were growing up. And then Hadji had come back from Bangalore and announced he had a fiancée. Time and life had just stood up and smacked his father in the face all at once.

That wasn't to say that he disapproved of Jonny's relationship with Jessie. Jonny knew that his father loved Jessie dearly. But it was going to take him some time to become accustomed to the idea that Jonny and Hadji weren't his "little boys" any longer. And Jonny saw no reason to rub his nose in it. Hadji's relationship was going to be public enough . . . his status as Sultan of Bangalore ensured that. Jonny couldn't see adding to his father's stress by telling him about the advancement of his relationship with Jessie.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jessie said, setting a bowl of soup down on the table in front of him.

"Hmmm?" Jonny replied, distractedly. "What?"

She looked at him with amusement. "You were a thousand miles away."

Jonny chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I was. I was thinking about Dad."

"What about him?" she asked, as she settled into the chair next to him.

"How life is moving just a little quicker than he's ready for."

She looked at him. "You mean about you and me?"

"That . . . and Hadji and Kefira. I don't think he was quite ready for all of this."

She thought about that for a while. Finally, in a neutral voice, she asked, "Does he have a problem with our relationship?"

Jonny shook his head. "No. It's not you or the relationship he's having a problem with. It's the idea that I'm actually old enough to understand how I feel and to know what I want. His favorite litany these days is that I'm 'so young' and have 'so much of my life ahead of me' . . . that my outlook will change as I get older and that I shouldn't rush into anything." He sighed. "I think he's scared."

Jessie sat quietly for a long time. Finally, she sighed softly. "Is this what our talk today has been about?

He thought about it. "Yeah, I guess it is."

She looked at him soberly. "Jonny, I don't have a problem with waiting if you feel _you_ aren't ready. Sex is not something we should have simply because we _can_. But I _do_ have a problem with deciding how and when our relationship advances based on the feelings and readiness of others . . . even if it is our parents. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

He looked away from her. "Yes, I understand . . ."

Evenly, she continued, "Jonny, what we're talking about is something very personal. God knows I'm no expert, but this is probably the single most personal thing we will ever do in our entire lives. This decision needs to be based on the way **WE** feel about our relationship and what **WE** are ready for."

Jonny looked at her, thinking about what she was saying. Eventually, he nodded. "You're right. This has to be our decision. But, Jess, I mean it. My dad is _not_ ready for this. And I don't think your dad is, either. And when they find out about it, there will be hell to pay."

"Then we see to it that they don't." She grinned at him suddenly. "After all, what they don't know won't hurt any of us!"

Jonny gazed at her in astonishment. "Are you saying we should _**lie**_ to our parents?!"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I would never suggest that. What I am saying is that we should be very discreet and not volunteer the information. If my dad asks me pointblank if we are sleeping together, then I'll answer him honestly. But I'm not going to go up to him and say, 'Hey, Dad, I think you should know that I'm boinking Jonny.' That would be dumb."

Jonny cringed in mock fear. "I wouldn't live to see the dawn!"

Jessie laughed. Reaching out, she caught his hand in hers. "Jonny, I'm not pushing you. We will make love when it's right for both of us. I don't want there to be any doubts. I can wait." She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "Thank you."

He let the kiss linger, before sitting back and asking, "For what?"

"For being willing to talk about this."

He smiled and kissed her again. When they finally separated, he replied, "You're welcome." 

In comfortable silence, they finished their lunch, then cleaned up, and returned to their homework. Both of them became totally engrossed in their respective projects until the phone interrupted them several hours later.

Absently, Jonny reached over and picked it up on the first ring. "Hello?" A blast of static caused him to jump and jerk the phone away. Then, cautiously, he returned the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he repeated, tentatively.

"Jonny?" Through the static, he could just barely hear his father's voice.

"Dad? Is that you?"

"Jonny, can you hear me?" Hastily, Jonny rose and strode to the windows, hoping to clear the reception on the phone line. With a jolt, he stared out onto an alien landscape. A wall of blowing white was all he could see in every direction. And for the first time, he noticed the muted sound of the wind, howling wildly. A blizzard had descended on Maine.

"Dad, I can barely hear you. Are you on the cell phone?"

There was a long pause, and then the static decreased slightly. "Jonny, can you hear me now?"

"Yeah, that's better, Dad. Where are you?" he asked anxiously. "You aren't out in this, are you?"

"I'm still in Bangor. It's . . . badly here, as well . . . coating . . . slick and extremely . . . highway . . . shut the roads down. There's no way I . . . out of . . . going to have . . . you?"

Jonny sighed in frustration. "Dad, you're breaking up very badly. Can you go to another phone?" A prolonged bout of static caused him to move the phone away from his ear again. He waited for a minute and then tried again. "Dad?"

For an instant, the connection cleared and he heard. " . . . ice has taken down phone and power lines. The weather forecasts say this isn't going to clear the coast much before tomorrow morning. Then, they'll have to start clearing roads. I don't know when I'll be able to get through, again."

Hastily, Jonny replied, "Well, don't even try! Are you safe? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Son. I'm still at the Phenix Inn. The Dawsons have emergency generators and all of us are safely holed up, waiting for the storm to pass. But I'm more concerned . . . isolated during this . . . I don't . . . alone . . ." The static suddenly obliterated everything. As Jonny waited, hoping that the connection would clear again, he looked over at Jessie. "Well, it looks like he's stuck in Bangor. How long has it been snowing like this?"

Jessie walked over to the windows and stared out in amazement. "I have no idea! I wasn't paying any attention. When we finished lunch it was overcast, but it wasn't snowing."

"Well, it sounds like it's doing more than snowing north of here. Dad said something about ice, too." Suddenly, the sound of the static decreased and Jonny said into the phone, "Dad, are you still there?"

Distantly, Jonny heard his father's voice, "Take care of yourself and don't . . . foolish. I'll get . . . as soon . . . can."

"We'll be fine," Jonny assured him, hoping his father could hear him. "And don't you try anything stupid, either. Don't risk trying to come home through this until it's safe! Dad? Dad! Are you still there?" He was greeted with nothing but static. Finally, he hung up in frustration. Before he could even set the phone down, it began to ring again. Hitting the "talk" button quickly, he said, "Dad? Is that you?"

"No. Were you expecting a call from Father?" Hadji's voice greeted him.

"Oh, hi, Hadji. No, I had just been talking to Dad, and we got cut off. I thought he might have found a way to call back."

"Is there a problem?" Hadji asked anxiously. "I have been trying to reach him, too, and have been unable to get through."

Jonny laughed, "Well, if you call a major blizzard a '"problem'". Bangor's been hit with snow and ice and he's stuck."

"Ah, that explains it then. I was trying to reach him to let him know that our flight to Bangor has been cancelled. They did not tell me it was because of snow. Should we try to drive back, then?"

"No, I don't think so. We're getting it very badly here, too. It's probably not a good idea for you to start driving and run the risk of getting stuck somewhere."

"Tell him, 'definitely not'," Jessie said hastily from the other side of the room. Jonny looked over to see her standing at the computer. On the screen he could see the characteristic reds, yellows, blues and greens of a Doppler radar weather map. Even from across the room, the pattern it showed looked violent.

"We just pulled up the regional radar map, Hadj, and it looks like a really bad idea to try driving anywhere right now. The storm is pretty extensive. Dad said it should clear this area by tomorrow, so maybe the best thing is to stay where you are and then try to reach Dad again tomorrow. Did Kefira and her father arrive safely?"

"Yes. They are here and everything is fine. Is Father safe?"

"Yeah. He's safe and sound at The Phenix Inn. The Dawsons are looking after him."

"Then we will stay here until tomorrow and see what Father says once the weather clears." Hadji chuckled suddenly. "This is quite an introduction to the United States for Kefira and her father."

Jonny laughed. "At least she knows what snow _is_. Be grateful she doesn't come from the lowland jungles of India!"

"A good point. You and Jessie are safe, I take it."

"Yeah, we're fine."

"Alright. I will call again tomorrow, then, after I talk with Father, and we can rearrange logistics."

"Okay. Talk to you then. And tell Kefira for us that we are _really_ looking forward to meeting her."

Hadji laughed. "I will tell her."

Jonny hit the disconnect button and set the phone back on the table. "Well, that's that. There's no way either of them are going to make it home through this any time soon."

"I think we better check to make sure we're set before this gets any worse," Jessie said practically.

"Yeah, you're probably right. You want to check the power and backup systems? I'm gonna go check the firewood stock. I don't imagine the power will go out, but just in case it does, we can close off the family room and heat it with the fireplace."

Jessie nodded, but also cautioned him. "If we need to pull firewood out of the stock in the storage shed, you call me. It's a total whiteout, and you could easily get lost in the snow between here and the shed."

"Deal," he agreed promptly. For the next half an hour, the two of them worked to ensure that the Compound was secured and ready to withstand the storm. Eventually, they met back in the family room. "That's about the best we can do, I think," Jonny commented to Jessie after they finished. "If we have to, we can easily hold out here for several weeks before our supplies run low. And we shouldn't need firewood until sometime late tomorrow, even if we let the fireplace burn continuously."

Jessie nodded. "Good. Let's hope the initial brunt of the storm passes by that time. So, what now?"

Jonny stared at the computer for a minute, then grimaced. "Somehow, I just can't work on my paper any more. Wanna watch TV or a movie or something?"

"Sure. I've finished my calculus, anyway. Why don't you find a movie to watch while I make some popcorn and get drinks."

"Cool. How about some action/adventure? We haven't watched "The Terminator" or "T2" in a while."

She thought about it briefly and then shook her head. "No, I don't think I'm in the mood for Arnie. How about Indiana Jones? Or a good murder mystery."

"Hey, I think Race said he bought "Devil in a Blue Dress" a couple of weeks ago. I haven't seen that one."

"Neither have I. Let's watch that."

Jonny busied himself setting up the tape machine and tending the fire, while Jessie got the stuff from the kitchen. Then, they snuggled together on the sofa to watch the movie. After a while, Jonny's mind began to wander again. As usual, Jessie's proximity was causing him to be unable to concentrate. He thought about their earlier discussions. She had been right -- he _was_ allowing his father to dictate his decisions about their relationship. To be fair, Jonny knew that his father was right about both of them being very young. God alone knew, they had seen the results of young couples getting in over their heads.

But did it have to be that way? He didn't think so. He really believed that the relationship between he and Jessie was different. For one thing, both of them had more life experience than others their own age. They'd also been a lot closer to death. And then there was the responsibility factor. Benton Quest had given his sons room to be children . . . there was no question of that. But he had also nurtured a sense of responsibility in them and reinforced it by giving them jobs that tested their limits and expanded that sense of responsibility. Sometimes he had failed those tests . . . he knew that. But not often, and not when it really counted.

There was another factor at work that most young couples didn't have to deal with, either. He and Jessie _did_ live in the same house. He saw her _all the time_. As his love for her had grown, so had his desire. Having her right there so much of the time only inflamed it. And his father had been right . . . the feelings he had for her could be overwhelming at times. He had tried to find methods of relieving the growing sexual tension between them. For a while necking had helped . . . but not for long. He hadn't told her, but Jessie wasn't the only one doing things in an effort to find a release. But it wasn't working, and he knew why. All the masturbation in the world wouldn't resolve the _emotional_ desire he had for her . . . the need to deepen the bond between them. And separating them wouldn't work either. They had just found that out the hard way. A fully committed, physical relationship would deal with both of these issues and was the next logical step for them.

So, was he honestly ready to commit to a physical relationship with Jessie? Yes, he was. He knew that there was no other woman for him. It was that simple.

"Jess?" he said quietly.

Something in his tone of voice caused her to look up. "Yeah?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier? About being ready to have sex?"

She looked at him solemnly, sensing the seriousness of his question. "Yes."

"No reservations?"

"None at all," she replied promptly, in the same serious tone.

He took a deep breath. "Then would you spend the night with me tonight? We are alone, and we know we won't be disturbed."

She gazed at him for a long time. Finally, she said, "Are you sure about this, Jonny? I meant what I said . . . I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for."

"I'm sure," he said with quiet assurance.

"Then, yes. I would very much like to spend the night with you tonight."

Jonny and Jessie spent the rest of the evening quietly. They finished watching the movie, made dinner, watched the news and weather, and just spent the time companionably. They had cuddled together much of the time, kissing and caressing one another often, but there had been no barely controllable desires or frantic urges to push any limits. Jonny thought about that, as he turned off the lights and prepared to go up to bed. It was as though once the decision had been made, neither of them seemed to have the violent urge to jump right in and actually _do_ it. They were content to take their time. But now the evening was over and the time had actually come.

He climbed the stairs, hesitating as he reached the upstairs hallway. Where was Jessie? When she had left to get ready for bed, he hadn't thought to ask her which room they were going to use. After a moment, he decided to go in and clean up . . . wash his face and brush his teeth . . . before going in search of her. He'd ask her which room she preferred and they'd go from there. He was just finishing, when a small sound caused him to turn. Jessie stood there, smiling hesitantly. She was still fully dressed, but her hair had been brushed to a high shine and the front of her shirt showed faint traces of water, as though she had splashed herself while cleaning up.

"I . . . I didn't know . . . I wasn't sure . . . which room do you . . ." She stumbled to a halt, color suddenly staining her cheeks.

Jonny dried his hands and stepped out of the bathroom. He reached out and drew her tightly to his side. "Whichever room you prefer, Jess. I don't care."

She considered that, then replied, "Let's use yours. I like being there."

As the two of them turned as one and moved down the hall toward his room, Jonny gave a final thought to the significance of what they were about to do. He recognized that he was about to cross a threshold and he suspected that things in his life would never be the same again. _Are you sure you're ready for this?_ a small voice in his mind asked him. He looked down at the girl tucked against his side and was suddenly shaken by the intensity of his feelings for her. He remembered trying to explain these feelings to his father and recognized that what he felt for her a scant month ago was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Was he ready? _No,_ he thought suddenly, _that's the wrong question. The right one is am I committed to her . . . now and for the rest of my life._ And with that, any remaining doubts he might have had fled. Yes, he was committed. He wanted no one else and he was ready for what they were preparing to do. As he released her and turned to close the door of his room behind them, he smiled. No, life would never be the same . . . it would be better.

  


* * * * *

  


Much later, as the two of them lay nestled together in warm, sleepy contentment, Jessie thought about what they had done. _And now, Bannon?_ she asked herself. _Now that it's over? Any regrets?_ Her inner voice responded rapidly and with conviction. No, she would never regret this decision. It was right.

Jonny was asking himself much the same thing and coming to the same conclusion. He still felt stunned by the entire experience. And the depth of feeling he had for her was awesome. Everything he felt had been magnified in a way he had never thought possible and he seemed attuned to her in some new way that was hard to define.. _It's true what they say,_ he mused to himself drowsily. _Everything really does change._ He couldn't explain it . . . he just knew that it was _right_.

Thinking her asleep, Jonny tightened his arm and whispered, "I love you, Jessica Bannon." He kissed the top of her head softly, and as his mind began to cloud with sleep, the last thing he heard was her soft, sleepy reply,

"Now and forever."


	6. Chapter 5 Monday, December 20

**

Chapter 5

**

  


Monday, December 20

  


Quest Compound

  


Jonny Quest stirred slightly and rolled his head to one side in irritation. Bright sunlight shown on his face, causing him to rise sluggishly from sleep. A comfortable lethargy gripped him. He was warm and content and had no desire to wake. He stirred again, some part of his mind suggesting that if he turned over, he could get the sun out of his eyes and he would go back to sleep. As he tried to do so, he became aware of something pressing against his left side. His eyes snapped open and he stared down at the gleaming red head that was nestled snugly into the hollow of his shoulder. As he gazed down at Jessie, all of the memories of the night before came rushing back, and desire for her flared again. Hesitantly, he drew the blankets back from her body so he could look at her. He hadn't dreamed it. She really was here in his bed. Jonny ran a soft, caressing hand down her side and she stirred. He saw her eyes open lazily. For a moment, he could seem to sense her reluctance to wake, and then she said softly,

"Good morning."

"Yes, it is," he agreed, after a moment. He drew the blankets back over her again and laid his head back down on the pillow. Nuzzling her hair gently, he asked, "How do you feel this morning?"

"I feel . . ." Jessie paused, as though searching for the right word. Finally, she continued, " . . . wonderful." Then she laughed softly and added, "Although, I think that word is woefully inadequate. How about you?"

For a long time Jonny didn't reply and, finally, Jessie levered herself up on an elbow to look down at him in concern. He smiled at her fearful expression and stroked her face with his hand as he replied softly, "I don't even know how to describe how I feel. Happy? Fulfilled? Content? Nothing seems quite right."

Jessie's face cleared and she smiled happily. "No regrets, Jonny?"

Jonny shook his head.

"You're sure?" she persisted.

"I'm _positive_," he replied with conviction. "I'm not sorry, if that's what you're asking. I just feel so good, I don't know how to describe it."

Jessie laughed softly. "I know what you mean." She ran a gentle hand down his chest and watched him shiver. Suddenly, she laughed again and asked teasingly, "I do have one idea of a word to describe how you're feeling, though."

Jonny squirmed under her teasing hand. "And what is that?" he replied breathlessly.

She arched an eyebrow at him suggestively. "Horny?"

Sitting up abruptly, he caught her in his arms and laid her back on the bed again. As he leaned over to kiss her, he murmured, "There is that . . . "

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Several hours later, they woke again. Jonny kissed Jessie gently and as he did so, his stomach growled loudly.

"Sorry," he said, blushing. "That wasn't a comment on your lovemaking, I promise."

Jessie laughed and rose quickly. She began collecting up her scattered clothing, saying, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely _starved_! What time is it, anyway?"

Jonny sat up and peered down the length of the bed to the alarm clock resting on the desk near his computer. "10:47," he replied. Suddenly, a panicked look crossed his face, and he launched himself out of bed like a rocket. "**10:47!** _Shit!_ If the roads got cleared last night and Dad got out of Bangor by 9:00, he could be here any minute!"

"Damn!" Jessie responded as she began pulling her clothes on frantically. "We canNOT get caught like this!"

"You got that right," Jonny agreed as he pulled his jeans on and began looking around for his socks. "This would freak Dad out totally."

"Okay, I'm dressed," Jessie said breathlessly as she hauled her shirt down over her head. "I'll go down and get something started for breakfast. You straighten up your room and make sure we cleaned up any evidence of last night."

"Got it," Jonny agreed. "Check the bathroom on your way down, though. I don't know what, if anything we left in there last night. I'll do a second check on it when I finish here. Your room okay?"

"Yeah, we didn't use it and I always make the bed and pick up in the morning anyway. I'll do a quick check on the bathroom." Suddenly, she stopped dead. "Oh, shit . . ."

"What?" Jonny paused, staring at her in concern.

"The in-house security monitoring system . . ."

Jonny shook his head and grinned at her. "Not to worry. It doesn't monitor the upstairs bedrooms. I shut it down yesterday when we were securing the house for the storm, anyway. I figured that no one was going to be able to struggle through the storm to reach the house, and the extra drain on the system wasn't necessary. Dad's done it before in exactly the same circumstances so he won't question why we did it . . . even if he thinks to ask. I'll get IRIS to restart it again as soon as I get downstairs. The most that might be there is some of our discussion, but we didn't make the decision to do anything until after it had been shut down.

"Cool!" Jessie replied, looking relieved. "Bacon, eggs, and pancakes for breakfast just as soon as I can get them made."

"I'll be right there . . ." As Jessie disappeared, Jonny finished dressing and then turned back to the bed. After scrutinizing it for a moment, he decided that a trip to the laundry room was in order. Rapidly, he stripped the sheets, tossed the blanket haphazardly over the mattress, collected up the pillowcases and a few other odds and ends, and headed down the hall for the bathroom. A cursory glance showed him that Jessie had already picked up the used towels and everything appeared in order. As he descended the stairs, he could hear the sound of a male voice drifting from the direction of the kitchen. Sweat broke out under his arms and across his forehead as he stopped dead about halfway down the staircase. _Oh, God, Dad's home,_ he thought frantically. _Now what do we do?_ But in the next instant, the voice was replaced by the bright, bouncy sound of the local radio station's jingle and a new voice could distinctly be heard saying,

"WRMA Radio . . . serving Rockport, Rockland, Camden, and the central Maine coast. The time is 11:00 a.m. on this snowy Monday morning. Please stay with us for an update on weather conditions, business and school closures, road conditions, and the five day forecast . . . coming up next."

Jonny could feel his heart start to beat again as he heaved a sigh of relief and descended the last of the stairs. He strode through the house and commented to Jessie, as he entered the kitchen. "You just about gave me heart failure!"

She looked up from the griddle where she was flipping pancakes and said, "What? Why? What did I do?"

Jonny laughed. "I didn't realize you'd turned on the radio and when I heard voices, I thought Dad was home."

She grinned at him impishly. "Someone would think you have a guilty conscience or something." Then she shook her head. "No, and from what I'm hearing, I don't think we have to worry about expecting Dr. Quest anytime soon. The radio says that virtually everything is closed down because of the blizzard. I guess that storm started with ice and then turned to snow. And once it started to snow, it dumped about 26 inches of the stuff all along the coast. _Then_ it turned windy and all that snow started to drift. They've got Route One closed, all of the secondary roads are drifted shut, and the local law enforcement agencies are saying that if you don't have to go out, stay put at home."

"You know if the phones are down?"

"I checked. The house phones don't seem to be working, but I did get a dial tone on the cellular."

"I'll bet that there are a lot of lines down due to the ice, but the satellite services are probably working. I'm a little surprised Dad hasn't tried to call. I'm gonna put this stuff in the washer and then I'll try giving the Phenix Inn a call."

Jessie laughed. "Did we make a mess? Put the stuff in and then come have breakfast while it's hot. You can try the call after that."

"Okay."

They had just finished breakfast about half an hour later, when the cell phone rang. Jonny relaxed back into his chair with a sigh, saying, "Man, that was good, Jess," as he reached to pick up the phone from the middle of the table.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," she replied, "because you're up for dinner detail. It's your turn to cook. If that's your dad, say "hi" for me."

"Hello?" Jonny said into the phone as he waved vaguely at Jessie. She smiled at him in relief as she heard him say, "Dad! Are you okay?"

Benton's voice was clear as he replied, "Yes, I'm fine, Son. Still in Bangor, though."

"We figured. We've had the radio on and it sounds pretty bad."

"I've talked to the State Police and they say they think they'll have the main roads open by late this afternoon, so I should be able to make it home sometime tonight."

"What about Hadji?"

"I was never able to reach him," Benton responded, sounding worried. "I tried calling the hotel this morning, but couldn't get through."

"The land-based phones aren't working around here due to the storm. Maybe they're having the same problem in New York. Did you try the cell phone?

"Yes, that's what I was using, but it was acting like I couldn't get a cell connection.

"That makes sense. If only cell lines are working right now, they are probably jammed. But I don't think you need to sweat it. We spoke to him yesterday, right after you called, so he knows that we were all snowed in. We also talked him out of driving back here with Kefira and her father. He said they'd stay at the hotel until he could talk to you. I don't suppose the airport is in any shape to be taking planes this morning, is it?"

Benton snorted. "I'm not sure they've even managed to get snow plows out there yet."

"Well, there's no need to hurry." Jonny had moved to a window that looked out over the front grounds of the Compound. Abruptly, he started to laugh and commented to his father, "If you were to get here now, you'd probably end up staying in town or needing a dog sled to get here. It's gonna take me several hours to get the drive and the access road cleared so you can get to the house."

"I take it you have a lot of snow there, too."

"Radio's saying 26 inches."

Benton whistled. "That's even worse than it is here."

"Sounds like you got more ice, though."

"That could be." Benton chuckled ruefully, "I hope this melts off before Christmas. Neither Race nor Estella are going to like having to fight snow on their wedding day."

Jonny laughed, "Are you kidding? As long as we could get the minister to the house, Race would be perfectly happy . . . Estella, too, for that matter. The one you'd have to live with would be Jessie!"

"What are you saying about me, Jonny Quest?" Jessie called from the kitchen and Jonny could hear his father chuckle as the distant voice carried to him over the phone.

"You've got a point," Benton agreed. "So are the two of you alright? No problems there?"

"No, we're fine. Right after you called, we did a Compound sweep to make sure we were set and I did shut some of the systems down to minimal levels just in case the power went out, but everything held up just fine. I reset everything to optimal levels when I got up this morning so we're secure."

"I think I'll let you go then and see if I can get hold of Hadji. Call me if he reaches you and hasn't talked to me, yet, will you?"

"Sure, Dad. Not a problem. Call us once you have a better idea of when you're gonna leave. We'll want to know when you're on the road so we know when to start to panic if you don't make it home."

"Well, aren't you starting to sound like the mother hen," Benton commented.

"No," Jonny replied, grinning into the phone, "just starting to sound like my dad."

Benton laughed. "I suppose I deserved that one. Alright, you take care and I'll talk to you again later this afternoon."

Jessie came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, reaching for the phone.

"Hold on a second, Dad. Jess is here and wants to talk to you for a second." Jonny passed the phone to Jessie and moved into the entryway to hunt for his snow boots. He could hear Jessie saying,

"You're okay, then, Dr. Quest? That's good . . . we were just a little worried. No, we're fine. Oh, okay. We'll wait for your call then. Good. You need to talk to Jonny again? Okay, I'll tell him. Alright. Bye." Jessie punched the off button on the phone and turned to Jonny, saying, "Your Dad says to be careful on the snow plow."

"Of course he does," Jonny replied, pulling on one of his boots. "I'm going to start clearing the drive and the road out to the highway."

"Okay. I'll finish cleaning up the kitchen, and then I'll get the front patio and the back porch cleared. Oh, and I also want to finish that load of laundry so we can get your bed remade." She paused, thinking a minute. "I suppose we should clear a path to lighthouse, too, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah, we better. I'll take care of it once I have the road cleared."

"I can work on it with the smaller snowcat, too."

"Okay. Be sure and keep the phone handy, though. I suspect we'll be hearing from the rest of the family, too."

"Got it."

As Jessie turned to go back to the kitchen, Jonny began shrugging into his coat. As he did so, he thought about his father's comment about being a "mother hen". _It's funny how true that is,_ Jonny thought quietly to himself. _I didn't used to be this way._ But things had changed in recent months. _No,_ Jonny corrected himself, _**I've** changed in recent months._ And he knew what it was, too. He'd grown up . . . a lot. His problems with Jessie, his decision to care for Brandon Simmons, and a whole host of smaller things had all come together to change him somehow. Oh, he was still impulsive. He probably always would be. But other things had changed . . . the way he interacted with other people . . . his relationship with his family . . . and, in particular, his feelings for Jessie . . . had all changed him in ways even he couldn't pin down. He supposed that his father was sensing this and was struggling to come to terms with it. Jonny shrugged to himself as he pulled on his gloves and hat. All he could do was give his father some time. Jonny had accepted the changes in himself . . . now it was up to his father to do so.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**

Phenix Inn  
Bangor, Maine

**

Benton Quest pressed the disconnect button on his cellular phone and set it in his lap. For a while he simply sat, staring sightlessly out the window in front of him. The glittering beauty of the snow-swept streets was lost on him as his mind fixed on his youngest son. Somehow, Jonny seemed infinitely older than he had even a month ago. _When did things change so much?_ he asked himself in bewilderment. _What happened to my little boy who was so reckless and never worried about anything?_ But Benton knew that that little boy was gone and would never return. He could even pinpoint the exact time when that carefree child had disappeared for good. Unbidden, the image of Jonny's fierce, accusatory look directed at Benton over the head of a sobbing, confused Brandon Simmons rose to the front of his mind. _Yes,_ Benton thought, _that was the night. He was never the same after that._

Brandon Simmons had come running to Jonny at a time when he had been emotionally vulnerable. His normal, cocky self-confidence had been undermined by problems with Jessie and the natural changes in his own body. And then Brandon had turned up on their doorstep . . . abandoned, abused, and terrified. The emotional distress both boys had been under had formed an almost immediate bond between the two of them, and Brandon's desperate situation had provided a framework for Jonny's own personal integrity, value system, and responsibility to blossom. Benton had watched helplessly as Jonny had taken Brandon in and allowed the boy to shift his emotional dependence to him. And no matter how Benton had tried to discourage Jonny and explain to him the potential for disaster in that situation, his son had accepted the responsibility and run with it. In the end, everything had worked out, but Benton had aged years as a result of the subsequent events.

Benton thought about how secretive his son had become during recent months. Oh, Jonny was still bright and talkative, but when it came to his inner-most thoughts and how he was feeling . . . well, that seemed to be a taboo subject. He didn't talk about personal matters at all any longer. And if you asked him point-blank, he would simply shut down and refuse to answer. Benton was at a total loss to figure out how it had happened that Jonny felt he couldn't talk to him any longer. _Did he feel like I was too busy to take time for him?_ Benton asked himself. _Could that be it?_ Benton was reminded of the day in England when he and Jonny had gone salmon fishing. They had taken the trip as a way to just spend some time together away from everything else . . . Jonny had laughingly called it father-son bonding. Benton remembered painfully how Jonny had reminded him that it had been Race that had taught him to fish. He had laughed it off at the time, but down deep Benton knew the comment had struck a nerve. Race had taught both Jonny and Hadji to do a great many things . . . things that Benton should have been doing. But somehow, other projects always seemed to demand his time. Race just filled in where needed . . . including when it came to Benton's sons.

Benton was startled by the spurt of jealousy that flared as he considered Race Bannon. For a long time now, both Jonny and Hadji had turned to Race when they needed to talk or were confused and needed advice. In subtle ways, Benton had tried to draw his sons back into talking with him about issues that concerned them, but somehow none of them had ever worked. Most of the time, the two boys seemed to rely on each other to work out their issues, but when things reached the point where they needed the advice of one of their elders, it seemed that it was Race they always turned to. No matter what he tried, he always discovered that some minor crisis had arisen and Race had dealt with it while he was busy with business. Benton sighed softly. He really couldn't blame Race, though. The younger man had come into their family at a very difficult time and had provided emotional support to Jonny at a time when Benton was simply not capable of giving it. Rachel's death had left him devastated and adrift for a long time. Eventuall1y, only throwing himself into his work seemed to provide an avenue of dealing with that loss. In time, things had gotten better, and for a long time it seemed as though it had not damaged his relationship with Jonny. But now Benton was beginning to wonder. He knew that he was lucky to have had Race there to provide the support his son had needed while Benton was incapable of providing it. That Race gained much needed solace from the relationship was something none of them had realized until much, much later. Lately, however, Benton had found himself wondering more and more often if maybe Race's constant presence had undermined his relationship with his sons more than he realized.

Of course, now Race was in much the same situation with his own daughter . . . as well as with Jonny. Neither of them talked with Race about the issues that arose in their relationship. Benton smiled to himself in rueful humor . . . he couldn't say he blamed them much. Heaven alone knew, Benton had shied away from giving serious thought to just how far that relationship had gone, and he knew that Race steadfastly refused to consider it. Estella had tried to talk reasonably to both of them about it, but Race and Benton had both refused to even discuss the possibility that Jonny and Jessie had become sexually active. He remembered Race becoming almost angry and telling Estella that they were too young and the very idea wouldn't even have crossed their mind. Benton shook his head. He might be in denial, but he certainly wasn't stupid, either. Oh, yes, it had crossed their minds, all right. Benton had seen the telltale signs of heavy necking sessions and the smoldering glances that were exchanged between those two all too often to doubt that. After the night when Jonny admitted how he really felt about Jessie and how the desire for her was so strong, Benton knew he needed to address the issue directly. He had tried to talk with his son about it later, but it had been an awkward, one-sided discussion that Jonny simply refused to participate in. Fleetingly, Benton wondered if that particular discussion was _always_ that hard.

Benton sighed deeply. What a mess. How could it be that he hadn't seen the situation with Jonny and Jessie coming? He had really believed that he was more attuned to his son than that. The entire relationship had simply blindsided him, and by the time he realized what was going on, it was well past the point where he, or Race, for that matter, could have done anything about it. Benton stopped at that thought. _"Done anything about it?"_ Would he really have tried to prevent it if he _had_ seen it coming? Benton was shaken at the line his thoughts were suddenly taking. Was he trying to cling to Jonny so hard that he would have deliberately tried to interfere in the developing romance between his son and Race's daughter?

"How about a cup of coffee, Benton?" a voice said to him, and suddenly there was a cup hovering in his line of sight. "Looks to me like you could use one."

Benton looked up and saw Myron Dawson standing next to his chair. Benton accepted the steaming cup with a smile of gratitude and watched as the elderly man moved gingerly to a nearby chair and sank into it with a grateful sigh. Myron was a life-long resident of Bangor, Maine, as his father had been and his father before him. When you first met him, the thought that immediately came to mind was that he was probably a troll. Myron Dawson was ugly. There was simply no other way to put it. He was small and stooped, had a lumpy face with a large, hairy mole on the end of his nose, and absolutely no hair. His hands were twisted and claw-like, and he had one eye that was milky white and sightless. All in all, his appearance was one that seemed custom-designed to frighten children.

But in truth, Myron was one of the sweetest, kindest men that Benton knew. He had turned 96 this past summer and was proud to proclaim his age to anyone who would listen. He suffered from a crippling form of arthritis that had twisted all of his joints into warped shapes and caused him to move with a slow and shuffling gate. Within recent months, he had begun to develop cataracts. Unfortunately, the doctors had been unable to remove them because of other health risks. So, in addition to everything else, Myron Dawson was rapidly going blind. And yet, in spite of all of this, he was always friendly, kind, happy, and eternally optimistic about the future. When asked how he could maintain that attitude, he would reply that the future would arrive whether we wanted it to or not, and worrying about it or cursing it would do nothing other than give a person ulcers . . . and since he had enough health problems as it was, he saw no point in encouraging another one to develop.

It had always been Benton's belief that Myron Dawson had lasted to the ripe old age of 96 because he insisted on keeping a positive attitude and looking to the future. One of the ways he did that was to remain forever involved in his community and the people around him. He loved children and always kept small sweets handy for the town kids who regularly ran in and out of the hotel. He was affectionately known as "Uncle Myron" to all of the town children, and most dropped by every day to see him. Many of them were the second and third generation of children who had come to visit the old man, their parents having stopped in regularly when they were small, as well. Even Jonny and Hadji, coming to this community as older children, had been drawn in by the old man's warmth and affection.

"That obvious, huh?"

The old man laughed. "You look like the weight of the world is resting on your shoulders."

Benton laughed, as well. "Nothing so easy to solve, I'm afraid."

Myron looked at the younger man shrewdly. "Your boys?"

"Where does the time go, Myron?" Benton asked plaintively. "Yesterday they were just children. And now . . . now, Jonny, of all people, is dithering after me like a mother hen after her chicks. I just don't know how to deal with this."

Myron thought about that for a while, allowing a comfortable silence to surround them. Finally, he nodded to himself and looked at Benton. "In my experience, Benton, there's only one way to deal with it."

"How?"

"Seems to me that both of your boys have good heads on their shoulders. You've raised them well and what you've taught them will serve them in the coming years. I don't think you need to worry about the choices they will make."

"I suppose."

"Don't mistake me, Benton. You won't like all of their decisions . . . parents never do. And eventually they will look back and see that some were right and some were wrong. But that's the way life is. All of us have our own lives to lead. You've prepared them well and you can't protect them forever. So be proud of them, Benton, and let them grow up. They'll be all right."

Myron rose slowly and gingerly to his feet. Benton glanced up and saw a man he didn't know standing at the main desk. As Myron moved past him toward the desk, he patted Benton's shoulder gently.

"And so will you."

Benton sighed as Myron moved off. Picking up the phone out of his lap, he slowly started to dial. Time to try Hadji again. As he waited for the connection to go through, he thought about the things Myron had said. Yes, he would be all right. He really didn't have much choice. But that knowledge wasn't any consolation. And it didn't give him a handle on how to deal with the way he was feeling. The steady ringing in his ear was suddenly interrupted by a voice.

"Plaza Hotel. How may I be of service?"

"Executive Suite, please."

"Certainly, Dr. Quest. Just one moment. I believe Mr. Singh is still in the hotel."

Benton shook his head in bemusement. After all these years and the multitude of times he had stayed at that hotel, you would think he would be accustomed to the way the staff there knew voices and who was staying where. But it still disconcerted him every time he called and didn't have to identify himself to the desk staff. Benton heard the phone begin to ring in his ear again as the call was transferred through.

"Hello?" The voice that answered the phone was not Hadji's. Rather, it was a low, warm contralto . . . a woman's voice, from the sound of it.

Benton hesitated for an instant, then said, "May I speak to Hadji Singh, please?"

"Just one moment. I will get him for you." Benton could hear the phone being set down and footsteps moving away. Then, distantly, he heard the voice say, "Hadji, there is a telephone call for you." The accent marked the woman as Indian. _Kefira,_ Benton thought, feeling slightly strange. Again, he felt that uneasy jolt . . . as though time and life were getting away from him. For some reason, he hadn't expected her to answer the phone. Then he heard the phone being lifted from the table and his son's voice said,

"Hello?"

"Hello, Hadji."

"Father! I am very glad to hear from you. I was becoming concerned. You are safe and unharmed?"

Benton laughed. "Yes, I'm fine. Safely enthroned in the main lobby of the Phenix Inn watching people trying to struggle through the snow. And you? I take it that Kefira and her father arrived safely?"

"Yes, it was Kefira who answered the phone."

"I suspected as much. Did you get snow?"

"Some, but nothing that has caused any problems. I believe the storm moved offshore before it got this far south."

Benton sighed. "Well, the same can't be said here. Things are a mess and from what Jonny says, they are worse at home."

"You have talked with him this morning, then."

"Just got off the phone with him," Benton agreed. "They are snowed in, but all the systems at the Compound held up and he and Jessie are secure."

"I am not surprised. We have made it as self-sustaining as possible."

"He had the forethought to minimize the demands on the system at the peak of the storm, too, so as not to overload it."

"A wise precaution. So how do you want to deal with getting home? Shall I retrieve the car from storage again and drive?"

Benton thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "No, I think not. I don't know how far south the storm got, but it's a certainty that you would hit bad roads before you got too far. It's also possible that you would only get part way and then be stranded. I suspect that rooms are hard to find in the storm zone. I think we would probably be better off following our original plan and have you fly up once they get Bangor International open again. I talked with the County Sheriff's Department this morning and they said they thought it would be open by late tonight or first thing tomorrow morning, providing we don't get any more snow."

"They are not predicting any. I was talking to the weather service not long before you called."

"That's the thing to do, then," Benton replied decisively. "No point risking travel if there's no need." He chuckled suddenly. "I'm sure you can keep yourself and the Subramanians occupied in New York for an extra day."

Hadji smiled. "Yes, I am sure I can."

"Just do me a favor and keep them out of the old subway tunnels, okay?"

Hadji laughed outright at that comment. "Yes, Father," he replied with feigned meekness.

"So do you want to call Jonny, or shall I."

"I will call. I promised him that I would call today, anyway."

"Fair enough. Let me know when you have a flight and when you will arrive."

"Certainly. You will be all right where you are?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine. You and Jonny, I swear."

"We are just concerned. You have no one there to protect you right now."

"I'll be _**fine**_," Benton repeated, with an edge of irritation in his voice. He paused, hearing himself, and then apologized. "I'm sorry, Hadji. I didn't mean to snap. I just . . ." He paused, searching for words. "I guess it's just that I'm not accustomed to having us all so strung out. What with Race and Estella in Colombia, you in New York, me in Bangor . . . "

"Yes, I know. It does feel strange." Hadji stopped. Then, abruptly, he said, "I liked it better the way things used to be."

"What?" Benton said, confused.

"It is just . . . sometimes I miss the way things used to be. I think life was simpler then."

Benton smiled to himself, suddenly feeling better. "Yes, I know. So do I. Look, I had better go. I've promised to play chess with Myron Dawson and he's already got the board set up."

"All right. I will talk with Jonny and then call you once I have a flight time. I hope it will be today, but it may be tomorrow."

"Probably tomorrow, but that will be fine. Tell Kefira and her father that I am looking forward to meeting them."

"I will. Take care. Goodbye, Father."

"Goodbye, Son."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**

Jungles of Colombia

**

Estella walked up to the table set up in the center of the work site and sank into a chair in relief. It was late in the afternoon and it had been hot and mercilessly humid all day. Everything she wore was sweat-soaked and clung to her uncomfortably. For all that it had been clear, she was fairly certain that they were going to have a tropical downpour very soon. It was unusual that it hadn't rained all day, and she had the feeling they were in for it. Letting out a deep sigh, she wiped her forehead with her forearm, leaned back in her chair and gazed at Race who sat opposite her across the table. But the expression on his face caused her to sit forward again in concern.

"What is it?"

"I can't get through."

"Who are you trying to call?"

"Benton and the kids. All I get is an overload signal every time I try to call the Compound."

"That's odd," Estella commented with a frown.

"It's a whole lot more than odd," Race said grimly. "I don't like it . . . not a bit."

"What number are you trying?"

"The main one at the house. I've also tried the separate line in Benton's study and the one in the lighthouse. I keep getting the same thing."

"How about the cell phone?"

Race punched the disconnect button on the phone, then keyed in a different one and put the phone to his ear again. "I don't know. I haven't tried that one yet. Let's see what we get." Both of them sat tensely, waiting for the connection to be made. Suddenly, he said, "It's ringing." The expression on Race's face darkened steadily and he became more and more tense as the phone continued to ring emptily. "Something wrong. This isn't . . ."

A sudden, sharp click in his ear interrupted him and, distantly, he heard his daughter's breathless voice say, "Hello?"

"Jess? Jessie is that you?"

"Dad?"

"Jessica, are you all right? What's wrong? Are Jonny and Benton . . ."

Race could hear the laughter in Jessie's voice as she cut across his flurry of questions. "Dad! It's okay. Really. Everyone is fine."

"Then what's wrong with the phones?"

This time Jessie laughed outright. "Oh, you are missing some serious fun."

"What kind of fun," Race asked suspiciously.

"The 26 inch kind."

"The _what_ kin . . ." Then he stopped as what she had said registered. "You mean snow? Twenty-six inches of _snow_?"

"Uh huh. And ice. And blizzard conditions. And drifting. It finally cleared up around sunrise. All the land-based phone lines are out and have been all day long. Jonny and I have been in and out for most of the day trying to dig our way out to the main road and to the lighthouse."

"What about Hadji? And Benton?"

"Dr. Quest is stuck in Bangor. They have less snow but more ice. And Hadji is still in New York. Kefira and her father got in fine, and they have virtually no snow, but the Bangor airport is closed, as well as most of the roads, so he's stuck there, too. Hadji and Dr. Quest are supposed to be trying to make contact to coordinate arrangements to make it home while Jonny and I hold the fort here."

"You're both all right there alone?"

"Of course!" Even over that amount of distance, Race could hear the disgust in her voice at that question and he grinned reluctantly. "Why wouldn't . . . oh, hang on, Dad. I think I've got another call trying to come through. I'll be right back."

Abruptly, Race heard a click and then the line hummed at him emptily. He looked over at his red-headed companion with an expression of resignation. "It figures."

"They had a storm?" Estella asked in concern.

"A doozie, from the sound of it. And everyone is dispersed all over creation. Jonny and Jess are the only ones at home."

"Oh, wonderful," Estella said in disgust. "Right before our wedding. This is just great."

"Don't get upset. We've still got four more days. That's plenty of time for them to get the roads cleared and everything in order."

"Unless it starts to snow again!"

"Jess said it had cleared."

"Let's just hope it stays that way."

"Dad?" Jessie's voice sounded in his ear again.

"I'm here, Sweetheart."

"That was Hadji. He's talked with Dr. Quest and they are shooting for getting home sometime late tomorrow morning. He says that officials in Bangor say they should have at least one runway clear and usable by midnight tonight or so. So Hadji and Kefira and her father have reservations on a flight out of JFK at 8:05 tomorrow morning. They should get in by 9:15 or so and they'll meet Dr. Quest and start home from there. If all goes well, they should be here before noon."

"Well, you and Jonny lie low. Just stay there until Benton gets home. I don't want the two of you getting into trouble while all of us are so spread out."

"No can do, Dad. We've got school tomorrow."

"School? When it's that bad?"

"Yeah. I guess they figure the roads will be open enough by tomorrow morning that they're going to open the school. We're in the middle of finals and they don't want to cancel too many days or they won't be able to close the term before Christmas. They only need two days to finish up and they want to get them in."

"Well, just be careful. I don't care if the roads are open, they won't be safe."

"Yeah, I know. Jonny's been talking about taking one of the snowmobiles in tomorrow rather than trying to drive."

"Probably a wise idea."

Estella relaxed back into her chair again, aware by the tone of her ex-husband's voice that things were all right with their daughter. She thought grimly of the conditions back in Maine and wondered briefly if they might not be wise to postpone the wedding until things improved. But it was a brief thought only. She knew _exactly_ the kind of response she would get from her daughter to that idea. She grinned to herself at the image her imagination painted of her daughter's face should she propose that to Jessie. No, that probably wasn't a wise thing to even suggest. A breeze gusted suddenly, stirring her hair. Looking up, she watched as the Malenquen pyramids on the far side of the dig site seemed to shimmer in the late afternoon sunshine and then disappear behind an opaque gray wall. Rain. Estella sat up abruptly and smacked Race on the shoulder as she rose to her feet. As he looked up at her, she pointed and ran to a nearby table to gather up the last of the paperwork. She could hear Race bidding Jessie a hasty goodbye as the two of them sprinted for their tent in the gathering rain.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**

Unspecified Location

**

"I tell you, Edgerton, this isn't going to work! The place is state of the art. There is no way to get in, free the target, and get him out without all of us ending up dead!"

Edgerton stood in the center of a room lined with bunks facing a man that towered a good 10 inches over him. And yet, none of the men who stood in a circle around the two watching the confrontation would have taken a bet on who would have come out the winner had things come to blows.

"You had better make it work," the smaller man replied coldly. "Mr. Baxter will accept no less. He wants Surd and he wants him _now_."

"I don't care what he wants," the other man replied belligerently. "I didn't buy into Baxter's organization to run suicide missions."

"Then what do you propose? Baxter wants Surd. Surd is being held in Brattleford Prison. That means we have to get the man out of it. Do you have a better idea?" Finally, something in Edgerton's voice seemed to get though to the man, and he shifted uneasily.

"I'm not saying it _can't_ be done. I'm just saying we need more time to get it set up. This is the most secure prison in the United States, if not the world. It's going to be extremely difficult to break anyone out of it at all, let alone trying to do it with short set up time."

"Time," Edgerton replied with an edge in his voice, "is what we don't have. But perhaps we can give you a bit of an edge." He strode across the room and flicked a wall switch, "Communications, contact Dr. Shemanski and Dr. Nydek and send them down to me in Section G3 immediately. I need them."

"Yes, Sir," a disembodied voice replied from the speaker at his hand.

Edgerton turned back to the men clustered in a group on the other side of the room. "We will see if we can't eliminate a few of the obstacles. But I'm warning you, this job comes off tonight, one way or the other."

The tall man glowered back with an expression that said he hadn't given up on his argument. A few moments later, two people entered the room. Both were non-descript and seemed rather harried. The older of the two, a slightly stooped, gray-haired gentlemen with the air of someone's kindly grandfather spoke up first. "Katie said you wanted us, Nate?"

Edgerton glared at the old man with obvious dislike. He hated the informality and the implied lack of respect the man always demonstrated to him, not to mention that he was capable of driving him absolutely crazy. Unfortunately, he was good at what he did and they needed him. The fact that the old man knew it didn't help Edgerton's temper, either.

"Yes, Dr. Nydek, I was," Edgerton replied. "These gentlemen have been assigned the responsibility for breaking an old associate of yours out of jail. They seem to be having some difficulty coming up with a way of doing that and I was hoping you might have a solution to their problem."

"Ah, yes, Jeremiah. Student of mine. Brilliant mind . . . truly brilliant. Such a shame."

"Yes, yes . . ." Edgerton snapped impatiently, "but what can you do to help get him out?"

Nydek contemplated that thought in silence for a long time. Just before the others in the room thought sure that Edgerton was going to erupt, he finally spoke. "Out. Yes. Well, perhaps. There are people, of course. Won't help with the computers. Naturally. But the people. Yes, yes, that would do."

"What are you talking about?" Edgerton practically shrieked.

The old man blinked at him owlishly. "Why, air, of course. What else would I be talking about?"

"What . . . about . . . the . . . air?" Edgerton said through clenched teeth, barely keeping himself from striking the old man.

"But that's the key, you see."

Edgerton turned pale and rigid and his hands clenched into fists. But before he could say a word, the other newcomer stepped forward. She was of medium height and heavyset with long, thick blonde hair. Shoving her hair back out of her face, she interrupted the old man hastily, cutting off the infuriated lead scientist.

"I'm sorry Peter, but I really don't understand. How is the air the key?"

"Put something in the air." The old man looked thoughtful. "Should be easy to do. My new nerve gas. Yes." He nodded, talking to himself absently. "Put it in the air. Kill all the guards. No opposition. Yes, that would do." He peered again at the woman. "Could get it in easily. Colorless. Odorless."

"But, Peter," the woman said patiently, "it would kill Surd, too."

Nydek looked at her with a frown and replied testily, "Kill Jeremiah? No . . . no. Own air. Won't hurt Jeremiah. No."

Edgerton looked disgusted. "But what's to stop them from calling for help as soon as one of them develops the symptoms? A big place like that, it will take time to filter through."

Nydek grinned suddenly and any resemblance to a kindly old grandfather disappeared. "Won't matter. Slow acting. Takes a while. Doesn't matter, though . . . already dead. They just don't know it right away. Shut off the phones. In a while, makes no difference." He looked at the woman standing near him and frowned, "Computers, though. Won't stop them. Stupid things," he ended petulantly.

The woman put her arm around the old man and turned him in the direction of the door. "Now, Peter, you let me worry about the computers. Let's you and I go figure out how we're going to get the nerve gas into the prison."

As the two moved toward the door, they passed the group of men assigned the task of getting Surd out of jail. One of them was heard to mutter, 

"But what about all them poor bastards locked up in that place? Won't they die, too?"

Nydek stopped and looked straight at the man who had spoken. Abruptly, the absent-minded old man was gone and in his place was a cold, calculating, heartless person whose gaze seemed to bore a hole through the man that had spoken. "Dead. Yes. Very dead. Like lab rats. Your point?" The man shook his head wordlessly and backed away. Turning back again, Nydek said, "Hungry. I'm hungry, Katie."

"Come along, Peter . . ." and her voice faded as the two left the room.

"Will that do? The computers and all the automated security systems disabled and all the guards dead? Do you think you can handle the job, now?" The sarcasm literally dripped from Edgerton's voice as he turned back to the leader of the group. "Or do I find someone who can?"

The tall man, looked at Edgerton, shaken. "You mean you plan to kill everyone in the place? Just to get one man out?"

"Since you can't seem to find any other way of doing it, that does appear to be the plan."

"Oh, I don't think I want any part of this," he said, backing away from the slight scientist. "I don't want . . ."

"You have a choice," Edgerton replied and a gun suddenly appeared in his hand. "You can enter the jail alive and bring out Surd, or you can enter it dead and stay there. Either way, you're going to Brattleford. You pick." For the space of three heartbeats there was total silence. And then it was shattered by the sound of the gun. The tall man's eyes widened and slowly he began to sag. The question in his eyes was clear as he slumped to the floor. Edgerton stared at the man for an instant and then looked at the others. "He took too long to answer." At random, he pointed to another man in the crowd. "You. You're in charge now. You leave here at 1800 hours. Nydek and Shemanski will have things ready for you to move by 0200 hours. In and out quickly. Just get Surd and get out." He looked down again at the man slumped on the floor and then stepped over the body negligently. "Oh, and make sure to take the trash with you and dispose of it. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, Sir!" the man replied quickly.

"Good." And with that, Edgerton turned and left. 


	7. Chapter 6 Tuesday, December 21

**Chapter 6 **

  


Tuesday, December 21

  


Rockport High School

Jonny dropped his books onto the table and collapsed into the molded plastic chair in the school cafeteria with a sigh. Jessie smiled at him sympathetically and said,

"Rough?"

Jonny shook his head. "Why does that man hate us?" he asked plaintively. "What have we ever done to him?"

Matt Evans looked at him quizzically. "Where have _you_ been?"

"Matteson's Advanced Calculus class. We had a test today."

"Bummer," Mike Short said, with a grimace. "I had Matteson for Geometry. I swore if I lived through it, I'd never take _anything_ from him ever again!"

Mary Oldham leaned against him slightly and laughed. As she did so, her big loop earrings and large collection of bracelets jangled softly. "I don't know. I kinda enjoyed that semester."

Mike snorted, then smiled at her. "Only because we spent so much time 'studying'."

Jonny grinned at the pair sitting across the table from him. At first glance, Mary Oldham and Mike Short looked like a really odd pair. Mike was tall and lanky. Mary was also slender, but she was extremely short . . . only about 4'1" . . . so that the top of her head didn't even reach Mike's chest. Mike was naturally fair. In it's normal state, his hair was a pale blonde, a good match for his light blue eyes. His hair rarely stayed the same color very long, however. Today, it was a brilliant shade of purple. Mary also liked to die her hair from it's normal brown color . . . at the moment, it was jet black, shoulder length, and appeared to be in a state of ordered disarray. And when she looked at you . . . Jonny could still remember the first time he met Mary . . . he felt something like a rabbit caught by a snake. Her dark brown eyes seemed to capture and hold a person suspended. She was different . . . that was all. In this rural, highly conservative area, her dark makeup, goth-style clothes, and abundant jewelry made her stand out. And because she stood out, it made her the target of gossip. He had heard rumors that Mary was a witch and part of a coven, but he shrugged that off. She wasn't a witch, at least not of the black arts kind. If she was Wiccan . . . well, so what? He had friends that were Methodist, Catholic, Jewish, Moslem, Buddist, agnostic, and probably even atheist. It made no difference to him or any of his close friends. They all liked Mary. When you got to know her, she was bright and witty, with a really sharp sense of humor. She was actually one of Jessie's very first girlfriends in Rockport. And more important than anything else, Mike was crazy about her. In Jonny's opinion, that was all that really mattered.

As he leaned back and laid his arm across the back of Jessie's chair, Jonny asked Matt, "So where's Bobby? I thought he was gonna meet us for lunch." Bobby and Matt Evans had been two of Jonny Quest's closest friends ever since he and his father moved to the Rockport area. In fact, they were the nephews of Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper that was like another part of the Quest family. The identical twins were generally inseparable and it was somewhat rare to see them apart.

"Yeah," Jessie agreed, leaning back into the curve of Jonny's arm. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen much of Bobby for several days." Something indefinable flickered across Matt's face and the fleeting expression caused Jonny to wonder uneasily if something might be up between the brothers. But before anyone could say anything, Jessie uttered a small sound of satisfaction and continued, "Oh, there's Marla. He's probably on his way." The group glanced over toward the doorway and saw a blonde girl standing there. Jessie raised her hand and waved. A smile flickered briefly on her face and she waved back, then turned and joined a group at a table in another part of the room. Jessie frowned in puzzlement.

Matt looked slightly uncomfortable and started to say something, but stopped as Mary looked across the table and asked, "So how're the wedding plans coming, Jessie?"

Jessie turned reluctantly from contemplating the other girl and replied, "Pretty good. Jonny and Hadji were helping me with stuff over the weekend. I may get this all set up yet."

As Mary laughed, Matt jumped on the offhand comment and deftly changed the subject. "Speaking of Hadji," he said, "what's this I hear about _him_ getting married?"

Among the startled comments and questions, Jonny questioned, "Where did you hear that?"

Matt looked surprised. "From Bobby. I assumed Hadji told him. Isn't it true?"

Jessie and Jonny exchanged confused looked, and Jessie finally replied, "Well, it's true that he's unofficially betrothed, but he's keeping it pretty quiet. I didn't think he'd told anyone other than the immediate family."

"Why? Is there something wrong about it or something?" Mary asked.

Jonny hesitated for a long minute before answering. "No, not really. I think he's just got Sultan-itis."

Jessie burst of laughter, caused all of them to chuckle.

"So what's 'Sultan-itis?" Matt asked with a grin.

"It's a case of discovering that being a Sultan's not all it's cracked up to be," Jonny replied with a matching grin. "Truth is, I think Neela is pushing him to fit into the mold of a Sultan, and I'm not sure he likes it much."

"Neela's his mother back in India, right?" Mary asked with hesitation.

"In Bangalore, yeah," Jessie agreed. Then she shrugged, "He's talked to me about it a little. I guess Bangalore is pretty traditional. He says that's fine, up to a point. But now it's kinda . . . " she trailed off searching for the right word.

"They're too hidebound," Mary supplied.

Jessie laughed as the others looked confused. "Too hidebound," she agreed. Then she grinned at the other girl, "You've been reading Anne McCaffrey's Pern books, again, haven't you?" She looked around at the others and clarified, "Traditional to a fault. Yeah, that's a lot of it. But I'm pretty sure there's more to it than that. Hadji hasn't really said as much, but I think that Neela's getting tired of "sharing" him with the rest of us. She wants him to relinquish this part of his life totally and become Sultan full time."

"I think you're right, Jess," Jonny replied soberly. "And Hadji's really unhappy about it. I know that Neela's getting more and more snotty about it, too. She called to talk to Hadji the other day and I answered the phone. She was really short and almost nasty. And I heard them arguing a little bit later."

Jessie shook her head. "It's kinda weird. Hadji has always been the calm and placid one of the three of us. He's very centered . . . he always seemed to know where he was going and what he was doing. But the more he deals with the situation in Bangalore, the more that seems to be changing. When it comes to stuff in the family, he's just as he always was, but when he has to deal with Neela . . ."

"She really knows how to get under his skin, that's for sure," Jonny agreed.

"That's weird, all right," Mike agreed. "But what about his getting married? Is that real?"

Jonny nodded. "Yeah. It's real. And _**that**_ seems to be _his_ choice, not Neela's. He really seems crazy about this girl."

"I'll bet Neela had a hand in it someplace, though," Jessie commented. "You remember how upset he was when he was in Bangalore the last time?"

"Man, I'll say," Jonny agreed with a frown. "I wasn't exactly focused enough to pick up all that was going on and even I noticed it. He never really explained what was going on, either. He was more interested in talking about Kefira."

"Kefira? Is that his girlfriend's name?" Mary asked with interest. Jonny and Jessie both nodded.

Mike sat up abruptly. "Hey, I'm tired of waiting for Bobby. I'm hungry. Let's get lunch and he can just join us whenever he gets here." The others agreed and they all rose and headed for the lunch line. A few minutes later, they all settled back at the table with trays of food and drink. As they began to eat, Matt asked Jessie and Jonny,

"So have you met her yet? "

"Met who?" Jonny asked, swallowing a mouthful of pizza hastily.

"Hadji's new fiancée," Mike replied patiently.

"Not yet," Jessie replied, then grinned at her boyfriend. "Soon, though."

Jonny grinned back. "Yeah. Kefira is coming to spend a couple of weeks over the holidays. Kefira and her father got into New York on Saturday. Hadji met 'em. They were supposed to arrive here on Sunday, but the weather stranded them in New York City. They should be here by the time we get home this afternoon."

"I can hardly wait," Jessie added in anticipation.

Everyone laughed as Mary said, "Then she'll be at the party a week from tomorrow? We'll get to meet her, too?"

"Yeah," Jessie replied, "Hadji said that whatever they do otherwise, they are both going to be at the Christmas party. He's told Kefira all about it, and Hadji says she's really excited about it."

"That's cool," Matt replied.

"What I don't understand is how Bobby knew about this," Jonny commented. "I was just sure that Hadji hadn't told anyone else. What did he say about it, Matt?" Matt just looked uncomfortable and shrugged, his mouth full.

"Why all the . . . " Mike started to say, then stopped abruptly, staring across the room in stunned silence. Beside him, Mary just sat there with her mouth open in astonishment. Jessie and Jonny looked from one of them to the other, then twisted in their chairs to follow their friends' stunned gaze. What they saw left both of them speechless, as well.

Bobby Evans was standing just inside the cafeteria room door. In marked contrast to his brother, who was disheveled and dressed in a gray sweatsuit, Bobby was dressed neatly in dress pants and a bulky sweater. His hair appeared to have been recently cut. Clinging to his right arm possessively was Francesca Hamilton. Jonny could feel his senses reel as time seemed to leap the gap back to the day that it had been him standing there beside the raven-haired girl. He could almost feel the warmth of her body and smell her perfume. He turned sharply to Matt and demanded,

"What the _hell_ is this???"

Matt hung his head and sighed. "I'm sorry Jonny . . . Jessie. I didn't know how to tell you." Matt's head came up and he looked at the two of them with a desperate expression. "I don't know what's gotten into him! He won't listen to me . . . he's just gone nuts. He's broken up with Marla . . . he's ignoring all of his friends . . . he argues with Mom and Dad constantly. He _knows_ what she is . . . the stuff she's done . . . but he won't listen! Keeps saying that she's changed and that no one is willing to give her a chance. I don't know what to do anymore."

The group watched in grim silence as the couple crossed the lunchroom and got in the cafeteria line. Bobby was solicitous, getting Francesca a tray, helping her select food, and carrying the tray back to a table for her. The pair sat well away from the rest of them. Sudden movement at the corner of her eye, caused Jessie to look to the other side of the room. Marla Dawson had risen abruptly and was heading for the cafeteria room doorway. Her head was bowed and she looked upset as she disappeared through the open doorway. Jessie turned back to see Matt watching her as well, the concern in his face evident. Their eyes met and Matt said softly,

"She's taking this really hard. She's been Bobby's girlfriend since before they even knew what that meant. The three of us grew up together. They were such naturals . . . but now . . ." Matt gestured angrily. "Francesca's using him, but he just doesn't see it. It's like . . ." he sighed in frustration, searching for words. "I don't know how to describe it."

"You don't have to," Jonny replied grimly. "I know exactly what you mean. She wants something . . . she always does."

"Maybe she just wants to try and fit in," Mary ventured hesitantly.

"I doubt it," Jonny said, dismissing the idea. "That's not Francesca's style."

"Look," Mary countered, a bit more strongly, "I don't know what all happened between the two of you . . . or between Francesca and Jessie. You never talked about it. But I _do_ understand what it feels like to be excluded. You've made your feelings about Francesca really clear to everyone in school . . . both you and Jessie. And there are a lot of people who won't have anything to do with Francesca simply because you detest her so thoroughly." Jonny started to protest, but Mary overrode him determinedly, warming to her subject. "Your opinion carries a lot of weight around here, Jonny Quest, whether you believe it or not. People follow the lead that you and Jessie set. Not many people will have much to do with Francesca because of your opinion of her. Bobby felt sorry for her. I know because I've heard him say so." She turned to Matt and stabbed a finger at him, saying sharply, "And so have you! No, he doesn't approve of what's she's done in the past. But everyone deserves a second chance. Bobby was willing to cut her some slack. I'll give him credit for that. It's more than you guys have done. I can see why she made a play for Bobby. He's easy going and is accepted in all the "right" circles. He was even invited to Audrey Penopscott's party at the Yacht Club last year! Dating him will get Francesca invited to a lot of functions."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Finally Jessie sighed and replied, "Mary, I believe in giving people a second chance, too. I'd even be willing to give Francesca one, if I thought that's really what she wants. But you forget that I know her better than you do.

"But . . ." Mary started to say, but Jessie overrode her protest.

"Remember, Mary, I've met her face to face since she returned to Rockport, and I've talked with her. Trust me when I say that she's hasn't changed." Jessie spread her hands in a vague gesture, forestalling Mary's reply. "I can't explain to you how I know that. I just do. Call it internal radar if you want. All I know is that there's more here than meets the eye."

Mary's stubborn expression said that she wasn't convinced. "You don't know that," she insisted. "Francesca has been through a lot. She never had a mother and her dad's gone now. I've heard rumors that he was a career criminal, and that she was even in jail for a while . . . and in a foreign country, too. You know, if that's all she's ever known, you can't expect her to adjust easily. So I don't see how you can be so sure that she's the way she used to be. Francesca is . . ."

"Francesca is _**evil**_," Jonny said flatly. His tone of voice and the expression on his face stopped all of them.

Mary looked at him and for the first time, doubt showed on her face. "But, Jonny, how can you be so sure?"

Jonny thought about that for a minute. Finally, he took a deep breath and said slowly, "I've been a lot of places and I've seen a lot of things in my life. And I've faced evil . . . pure, unrelenting, irrational evil. When I look into Francesca's eyes, that's what I see. It's rooted in her soul, and she can't hide it from me . . . not anymore. I've stood face to face with her, when it was just the two of us, and I've seen her with the veneer ripped away. She's greedy and cold hearted. She has no conscience and she hates." He stopped, staring at the surface of the table without really seeing it, his thoughts totally turned inward. None of them knew what memories were playing themselves out in his mind, but it was evident from the expression on his face that they weren't pleasant. Finally, he sighed deeply and raised his head to look at his friends again. "I don't know how else to describe it. I just know that it's true."

"And I've watched her with Bobby," Matt added unhappily. "She manipulates him . . . gets him to do stuff he _knows_ he shouldn't be doing and that gets him in trouble with Dad and Mom." Matt frowned suddenly, as though thinking about it more closely. "And, you know, I think she _enjoys_ that . . . seeing him in trouble, I mean."

"But that doesn't even make sense," Mary said helplessly. "Why would she do that? She's not about to jeopardize her relationship with Bobby, particularly if you're right and she really _does_ want something. He's her access to people and places."

"No, Mary, you don't understand," Jessie said quietly. There was such a note of intensity in her voice that all of them stared at her. "For Francesca, it's a power game . . . power over other people. She gets high off of her ability to manipulate people and their emotions. It's why we clashed so quickly. Yes, she was trying to take Jonny away from me." Jonny tightened his arm around her waist possessively, pulling her tighter against his side. She laid her arm along his, caressing it gently. "But that was only part of the game. She also found she had the power to hurt me, too. So she goaded me . . . went for my weak spots and capitalized on them when I foundered. It was her power to hurt me that she thrived on."

Mary stared across the table at her friend. Finally she replied, "I never realized that. You mean she deliberately hurt you just because she _could_?"

Jessie nodded. "It's just the way she is. She tried it again at the Christmas Festival." Jessie sighed softly and shook her head. "But I've changed in the two years since I first met her . . . I'm not the person I was then. She discovered that she has no power over me any longer. So she tried a different tactic. Right after the Christmas Festival, I had some malicious jokes played on me . . . "

"What!" Jonny exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. "You never said . . ."

Jessie used her weight to shove him back into his chair. "I didn't say anything about it because I _knew_ you would react just like this. Furthermore, I couldn't _prove_ that Francesca had done them. I believe she did, but . . ."

"What kind of practical jokes?" Mike asked, putting his arm around his girlfriend and pulling her back against him. Jessie didn't miss the almost protective way he shifted his shoulders as he held Mary.

Jessie shrugged. "My locker was rigged one day so everything in it fell out when I opened the door. And the lid on one of the inkbottles at my workstation in the graphics lab had been loosened so that I made a mess when I went to use it. Little stuff like that. _Nothing_ dangerous," she said somewhat forcibly, banging her shoulders against Jonny's chest and tipping him back against the seat rest to forestall his attempt to rise from his chair again. "Typical Francesca tactics. She also took snide little verbal shots whenever she could. But she learned soon enough that I wasn't susceptible to that kind of stuff, either. The last time she tried it was in gym class . . . " Jessie shook her head. "She hasn't tried anything since."

Matt looked at Jessie in trepidation. "What did you do?"

But it was Mary Oldham that answered, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I remember that day. It was at the end of class and Francesca had been ragging on you about some move you'd tried and missed on the uneven parallel bars . . . she was being really catty." Mary suddenly laughed, "Man, I have never seen anyone taken down to size so neatly in all my life. I remember you just turned to her, looked her up and down, and then made some offhanded comment about a person being able to learn grace under pressure, but that style was something that came from within. And Becca Harris said that she was sure Francesca wouldn't understand the difference, but told her not to feel bad . . . that she was sure that someday Francesca would find _something_ she was good for. And that was just the way she worded it, too. And then you just turned and walked away like she wasn't worth your time."

Jessie chuckled, "Francesca doesn't like to be dismissed. That's _her_ weakness. It took me a long time to learn that."

"I can believe it!" Mary agreed fervently. "Oh, man, she was furious. She'd set herself up for it, though, and she knew it. Anything she said would've ended up making her look worse than she already did."

Jessie nodded. "She also knew that suspicion would fall directly on her for any other tricks pulled on me." Suddenly, Jessie's expression turned grim. "I also had a very short, pointed discussion with her in private later that day on the subject of unexpected 'accidents'. I made myself pretty clear."

"Accidents?" Mike asked in confusion. "What do you mean, 'accidents'?"

"Yeah," Mary agreed. "Are we missing something?"

"Francesca's been known to pull some stuff that is a bit rougher than nuisance crap," Jonny replied shortly.

"Like what?" Mary asked, fascinated.

Jessie shook her head. "Doesn't matter. All that's important is that Francesca Hamilton and I understand each other. Trust me, she won't try any of that kind of stuff on me any more."

"How long ago was this? That you had that little 'chat' with her, I mean." Matt asked, thoughtfully.

Jessie looked puzzled. "I don't know . . . three weeks or so. Not much more, I don't think. It was right after the Christmas Festival. Why?"

"Because two weeks ago last Saturday, Bobby ran into Francesca over in Camden. He'd volunteered to help with the Christmas puppet show over there again this year. From what little Bobby said, he ran into her early that morning when they were just starting to set up and she hung around and helped. They ended up spending the entire day together. They worked on the puppet show, went Christmas shopping, strode around the harbor and watched the fishing boats, and he even bought her dinner. From then on, it seemed like a day didn't go by that he didn't see her. The next thing I knew, he'd had this great big blowup with Marla, he'd returned her class ring and gotten his back, and just this weekend he gave it to Francesca."

"Oh, man, does this sound familiar," Jonny said in disgust. "You've got to talk to him, Matt . . . before it's too late and he really gets hurt!"

Matt threw his hands up in the air and said, "You think I haven't _tried_??? Jeez, I've lost track of the times I've tried to make him see sense. All he does is get angry and storm off. The last time I tried, he told me I was only saying these things because I was jealous that he had a steady girlfriend and I didn't!"

Mike laughed derisively. "As if you couldn't have a steady girlfriend if you wanted one!"

"Yeah, Playboy Matt . . . the one no girl can nail to the floor," Jessie cracked.

Matt grinned reluctantly. "So, okay, I like to play the field. There's nothing wrong with that. The point is, I'm not jealous of Bobby having a regular girlfriend. I just couldn't believe he said it . . . or even thought it!"

Jonny shook his head slowly and gazed at the couple on the other side of the room. "No, he's not going to listen, is he? Just like I wouldn't listen. For one reason or another, she's got him snowed and there's not much we can do about it."

"Other than hang around and be there for him when he finally discovers he's been used," Matt agreed glumly.

"But you know," Jessie commented softly with a troubled look in her eyes, "the $64,000 question is, used for what?" But no one had an answer for that one. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**

Bangor International Airport

**

Benton stood starting out one of the windows on the second floor of the Bangor International Airport. The winter landscape opened out before him in true panoramic fashion. Flat, snow-covered ground gave way to rolling hills broken by scattered stands of trees that reached their barren limbs to the sky as though in supplication to some long-forgotten God. It was a world washed in white. It was a beautiful sight. Near at hand, a single runway had been cleared just enough to allow planes to take off and land. In the distance, Benton could see the glaring red and blue lights landing lights, which stood out sharply against the white backdrop. Around him, crowds of people milled uneasily. Normally, the Bangor airport was relatively quiet, crowds ebbing and flowing as planes landed to deliver their latest round of skiers, hikers, cyclists, and businessmen and to pick up those who were headed home. But today was different. The place teamed with people everywhere you looked. Weather had stranded many people and they moved restlessly . . . from seats and makeshift beds on the floors to the few restaurants that were open to the harassed ticket agents.

The restlessness of the crowd fed Benton's nervousness, making him jumpy. He looked at his watch and found that only two minutes had passed since the last time he had checked the time. 9:04. Hadji's plane was late. Benton wished that this meeting were over. Some disconnected part of his mind snickered at him. He had talked easily with presidents, kings, and all kinds of dignitaries throughout the world, and not one of them had caused him to be as nervous as he found himself right now. For some reason, meeting the girl that his eldest son had decided to marry had him on the edge of being a basket case. Benton sighed and turned away from the windows as he thought again of what Myron Dawson had said to him the day before. Time stopped for no man. And whether he liked to admit it or not, his sons were grown. Both of them were starting to make their own decisions and to set their feet on paths that would draw them further and further from him. That was how it was supposed to be. He had lain awake for hours the previous night thinking about that. And after a long time, he had finally found a certain amount of peace. He knew that the next several years wouldn't be easy, but he thought he had finally begun to come to terms with it. And he also knew that it was irrational to think of it as life "taking his sons away from him." No, he knew that whatever happened and wherever life took his sons, that he would still be an important part in their lives. What he had come to understand as he laid in the dark staring sleeplessly at the ceiling was that what he was fighting against wasn't that he didn't want his sons to grow up. No, that wasn't it. It was the realization that the day was coming when they would _leave_ . . . and he would be alone. For the first time since he had married Rachel, he would truly be on his own, answerable only for himself. Suddenly, he felt lost. It was Jonny . . . and later, Hadji . . . that had kept Benton going after Rachel had died. The knowledge that he had those two boys to care for was what gave him the strength to get up in the morning and make it through another day. In time, the grief and loss had lessened. He wasn't even sure he knew when the emptiness had been replaced by contentment, but it had happened. But over the last several months, he'd found it coming back again, and that scared him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about it, either. All he knew for certain was that it was _his_ problem and he could not allow it to taint his sons' happiness.

"There it is!"

Benton turned and strode back to the windows swiftly. His eyes followed the pointing fingers of several people in the crowd, and quickly spotted the small jet as it banked to line it's approach up with the snow swept runway. It wouldn't be long, now. He turned and moved away from the window quickly, heading for the escalators that would take him downstairs to the arrival gates. Amidst the throng, he waited impatiently as the plane taxied across the field and the door to the plane was opened. At last, passengers began disembarking. Hadji and his guests were among the first off the plane. For all that the Bangor airport was an international facility, it still didn't carry enough air traffic to merit such amenities as jetways. The airport maintenance crews had done the best they could, but wind and weather conspired to force the passengers to wade snow in several places, slowing their progress toward the terminal. As they struggled toward the door, Benton watched them curiously.

Hadji was the first of the three to appear in the open doorway and he paused, looking around for an instant before starting his decent to the ground. He wore a pair of black denims and a nylon ski jacket in that warm shade of blue that was his favorite color. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he wore no hat. There was no sign of his turban. Something moved in the back of Benton's mind . . . an uneasy sense of warning. Ever since returning from Bangalore the last time, Benton had noted that his eldest son had suddenly developed a marked preference for western style attire. He seldom wore either his standard Indian garb or his turban, and Benton had even overhead him talking with Jonny about the possibility of getting his hair cut. Up to this point, Benton hadn't said anything, but the more he noticed it, the more he came to feel that something was up. He had expected to find his son in full Indian dress for this particular meeting. To find him wearing casual Western attire around his future father-in-law underlined that feeling of uneasiness. As a smaller figure appeared behind Hadji in the door, Benton resolved to get to the bottom of whatever was going on very soon. The smaller figure didn't even pause, descending immediately to the ground to stand behind Hadji. Kefira. There was no doubt in Benton's mind, even before he saw Hadji put an arm around her shoulders and turn so his body provided a wind break for her. She was wrapped in a long coat that reached within a few inches of the ground and she had a hood pulled up over her head so Benton couldn't get a good look at her. Both turned and looked up as the third member of their party descended the stairs. Benton looked at Kefira's father closely. The man wasn't terribly tall . . . maybe 5'10" . . . but he carried himself with an authority that spoke of strength of character that Benton automatically admired. Ignoring the biting wind, he looked around, taking in his surroundings with an obvious interest. As he reached the ground Benton saw Hadji say something to him and gesture toward the building. The older man nodded and followed the two young people with a purposeful stride. Benton took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. _Here we go,_ he thought to himself and moved toward the door to the terminal.

"Hadji!" he called, raising his hand from the back of the crowd as they trio entered the building.

Hadji's head snapped up sharply, hearing the familiar voice calling his name. Looking over the crowd he spotted his father and waved back. "There he is," he said to his two guests and led them through the throng to where Benton Quest stood waiting. "Father," Hadji said as he came up, and he gave the older man a quick hug.

"No trouble getting here?" Benton asked, returning the gesture.

"Not once we got on the plane. The airport was somewhat crowded, however."

"I'll bet it was," Benton replied with an involuntary chuckle, knowing his son's talent for understatement.

Hadji turned to the two people with him. Reaching out, he drew the older man forward, saying, "Father, I would like to present Rajeev Subramanian of Bangalore."

Benton caught the man's hand in a firm clasp and said, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Subramanian. My son speaks very highly of you."

Rajeev bowed deeply. "I am honored, Dr. Quest. The Sultan has nothing but glowing words to say of his American father, and you bring much honor to my family by offering my daughter and myself your hospitality."

"The honor is mine, sir," Benton replied with equal formality.

"And this is Kefira, Father," Hadji said, drawing the third member of their party forward. The girl reached up and threw the hood back and Benton saw her for the first time. He had the briefest impression of a flashing smile and raven black hair before he was captured by brown, expressive eyes that seemed to hold him in thrall.

For a long moment, he just stared at her, lost in the well of those eyes. Then he stepped forward, put his arms around her and hugged her sharply. "Welcome, child," he said gruffly, abruptly caught up in a joy so fierce it astonished him. Any doubts he had about Hadji's choice were gone. He couldn't explain it . . . he just knew, as surely as his son had, that this was _right_. Stepping back, he smiled at her happily. "I can't tell you how glad I am to finally meet you." She smiled back at him rather shakily and it occurred to Benton that she had been as worried about this meeting as he had been.

"I thank you, sir," she said in a small voice. "It is very kind of you to offer us such hospitality."

Benton smiled at her again and shook his head slightly. "Not hospitality, Kefira. Hospitality is what you offer strangers. You and your family are much more than that. I want you to feel as welcome at the Quest Compound as you do in your own home." Benton looked over her head and smiled at Hadji. "It is my son's home, after all." He was rewarded by a look so warm and loving from the young man that it caused Benton's throat to tighten. Yes, whatever the future would bring, things would be all right.

Putting an arm around the girl's shoulders, he turned toward the far end of the terminal. "Shall we claim your luggage? I hate to rush you, but I want to get on the road to Rockport as quickly as possible. They aren't predicting anything nasty in the way of weather, but things can change rather abruptly at times. I'll be happier once we are all safely lodged at the Compound."

"Agreed," Rajeev replied comfortably, dropping into step beside Benton. "I will admit that I am looking forward to seeing your facilities, Dr. Quest. The Sul . . . er . . . _Hadji_ . . ." Rajeev corrected himself hastily as Hadji frowned at him, "has told us a bit about them and it all sounds quite fascinating. He tells me you have a full research laboratory in a _lighthouse_?"

Benton laughed. "Indeed I do," he replied, "and then some. I hope you will allow me to show it to you while you are here."

"And Hadji says there are granite mines nearby!" Kefira exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Do you think maybe we can visit those, as well? I would love to see how they deal with some of the issues we have difficulty with. From what I've read, some of the stone from those mines are similar to that in our far northern mine and it poses some particularly difficult problems with . . ."

"Kefira!" her father admonished her sharply.

"Oh!" she said, her hand going to her mouth as if to stem the flow of words. The excitement faded from her face as she realized that perhaps she was being rude.

Benton looked at Hadji who grinned back, unabashed. "She is always like this . . . a one-track mind."

"I never expected anything less," Benton replied. He looked at the girl solemnly. "Never, ever apologize for your curiosity or your love for what you do, Kefira. It is a gift to be treasured. And you will find that in my house, such curiosity is nurtured and fed. Yes, we will find time to visit the mines. I even know the main foreman for the big mine over in Vermont and I'll call and make arrangements to visit before you leave. Ben Johnson is a good man who knows his business and I know he'll be more than happy to talk with you. He is as devoted to it as you are." The girl looked positively radiant, and her father smiled at her indulgently.

"Well," Benton said briskly, "we had better get your bags and get on the road or we won't be home by the time Jonny and Jessie get out of school."

"That is important?" Rajeev asked.

Hadji grinned. "My brother and his girlfriend are not the most patient people in the world. If we are not home, they are just as likely to come looking for us as they are to wait until we get there."

"God forbid!" Benton exclaimed. Everyone was laughing as they approached the luggage carousel.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Rockport High School**

Jessie strode up to her locker in the Rockport High School and began throwing stuff into it haphazardly. She had originally planned to take a bunch of stuff home with her today just to clean out her locker for the end of the term, but decided to forget about it. She was anxious to leave and she didn't want to take the time. She had seen Jonny very briefly right after second period and he had told her that his father had called to tell him that he was on his way home with Hadji and their guests. It was now just after two o'clock and they should easily be home by this time, even allowing extra time for bad road conditions.

Jonny strode up just as she was closing her locker door. He unceremoniously tossed his books into his locker, snatched up his coat, and said, "Come on, let's go!" Both of them began pulling on coats and hats as they trotted toward the side door that opened out onto the school parking lot. They were just about to go out the door when they heard a familiar voice calling their names. Turning, they saw Bobby Evans approaching them.

"Hey, guys, wait up a second . . ."

Jonny shifted impatiently and replied, "Hey, Bobby. Look, man, I'm sorry, but we really gotta go. We're already late heading for home and we've got guests waiting there."

Bobby stopped breathlessly in front of them, and replied, "Okay. I just had a quick question for you anyway."

"Shoot."

"The Christmas party at your place is still on, right? A week from tomorrow?"

"Yeah. We should have the invitations out tomorrow."

Bobby nodded. "That's all I wanted to know. The Conners are having a Christmas party, too, and I didn't want it to conflict with yours. They said they could pick the day depending on what would work on my schedule."

"What does . . ." Jonny began, but then stopped abruptly as the significance of that comment finally sank in. Next to him, he could feel Jessie stiffen. "Wait a minute. You're **NOT** bringing Francesca Hamilton to our Christmas party."

"But . . . "

"**NO.** I won't have her in our house."

"She is my girlfriend," Bobby replied sharply. "If she can't come, then I'm not gonna be there, either."

Jessie laid a hand on Jonny's arm. "Jonny, maybe . . ."

"I said 'no'," he said sharply. "You're an idiot, Bobby. I don't know what Francesca wants, but sooner or later you're gonna find out the hard way what it is. And in the mean time, I'm not going to put my home and my family at risk again while you learn your lesson."

Bobby Evans flushed and replied hotly, "Maybe all she wants is **me**. Did you ever consider that?"

"Yeah. Right," Jonny replied sarcastically. "All she really wants to be is Little Suzy Homemaker, have a nice house with a pretty white picket fence, raise a house full of cute, pink-cheeked little children, and have you come home to dinner every night after a long day at the office. Get real, Bobby!"

"Jonny!" Jessie said urgently, tugging on his arm desperately.

"Or maybe it's just that you can't admit that you weren't man enough for her!" Bobby retaliated in fury.

"Not man enough for her?" Jonny said, incredulously. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure that was it. I just couldn't live up to her expectations! At least she got her usual jollies in finding herself a new boyfriend. It's just too bad that the person on the losing end had to be Marla."

"You leave Marla out of this!" Bobby snarled. "It's none of your business!"

Jonny turned away, pulling Jessie after him. "You're right. It's not. You want Francesca for a girlfriend, she's all yours. Take her with my blessings." Abruptly, he stopped and turned back to stare at Bobby with a harsh expression. "You just keep her away from me and my family. Clear?"

"Oh, yeah, you've made yourself perfectly clear."

"Fine." And with that Jonny pulled Jessie out the door with him and shut it firmly in Bobby's face.

Jessie dragged at Jonny's arm frantically, trying to slow him down as he crossed the parking lot, dragging her with him. "Jonny . . . Jonny, WAIT. You can't do this. He's your friend. You can't leave it like this!"

"Yes, I can. He knows how I feel about Francesca. If he can't accept that I can't stand her and won't be around her, then he can go with her and the hell with him."

Digging in, she dragged him to a stop and forced him to turn and face her. "Jonny, he doesn't understand. He has no idea what she can be like. We haven't told him everything that went on. And she's good . . . good at playing the innocent . . . at manipulating people to get what she wants. We both know that, sooner or later, the truth will show, and Bobby will be really hurt. He'll need his friends then. Don't alienate him now. Please." Jessie could see him slowly beginning to calm down, but the set of his shoulders and mouth told her that he wasn't prepared to relent.

"That may be, Jess, but I'm **not** going to allow her close to my family. If that's the choice I have to make, then Bobby will just have to fend for himself. Come on. Let's get home. They're waiting for us."

With a deep sigh, Jessie gave up and followed him across the parking lot to the large snowmobile parked on the far end of the lot. He was right. They needed to get home. But she wasn't finished on this subject. She hadn't liked the idea that Francesca was back in Rockport, but Bobby and Mary had been wrong about one thing. Jessie _was_ ready to give her the benefit of the doubt . . . at least up to a certain point. Until Francesca proved differently, Jessie had been prepared to accept that the girl was here for the reasons she claimed. Jessie could even accept that the pranks that Francesca had been pulling on her were little more than petty jealousy. She'd seen similar stuff pulled by other girls in wars over boyfriends. But that had changed, now. In her own mind, the business with Bobby was confirmation that something was going on.

Jonny hit the starter on the snowmobile as Jessie climbed on behind him and settled herself comfortably. She slid her arms around his waist and held on as he skillfully swung the machine out of the parking place and headed it in the direction of the snowmobile trail that led through the woods, paralleling the main road. "You set?" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Go for it!"

Jonny swung onto the trail and gunned the accelerator, sending them speeding away in the direction of home. The mid-afternoon sunshine sparkled on the snow like diamonds, but Jessie didn't notice it as she continued to contemplate the situation. No, something was up. She could feel it, like an unreachable itch between her shoulder blades. Her radar was sending very loud warning signals over it. This business with Bobby actually had one benefit . . . something she couldn't point out to Jonny in his current frame of mind. At least this would provide a reason to keep Francesca under close surveillance. As strange as it sounded, Jessie wanted to keep the unbridled animosity between the two of them going. Jessie knew that tension kept her sharp . . . watchful. And she had the feeling that in the coming days, that was going to be really important. Jessie focused her attention on Jonny for an instant. Now was not the time to talk to him about the situation, though. He was angry. She could feel it in the rigidness of his body as she clung to him. _Leave it alone for now,_ she thought to herself. _Give him some time to calm down, first._ Furthermore, Kefira should be here by this time . . .


	8. Chapter 7 Wednesday, December 22

**Chapter 7**

  


Wednesday, December 22

  


Brattleford Prison

The wind howled mournfully across the open land and rattled the barren limbs of trees that stood sentinel on the hills surrounding the snow-covered valley. Clouds scuttled across the sky, causing the wan moonlight to play tricks with the shadows. The man that crouched in the trees on the north edge of the valley shivered convulsively as the wind flung blowing snow in his face. He turned away briefly, glancing behind him as he did so. Dimly, he could just make out the huddled shapes of three other people. They squatted low to the ground a short way back into the trees in an attempt to shield themselves from the drifting snow and biting wind. This night wasn't fit for man or beast, and the man wondered again how he had let himself get into this situation.

He turned into the wind again and gazed down into the valley below. The grove of trees under which he sheltered gave way to open land not far from where he stood. The intermittent moonlight reflected off of the snow, causing the isolated trees and shrubs to show up black against the wavering grayness of the countryside. On the far side of the valley, he occasionally caught a glimmer of reflected light, as the river meandered across the land and disappeared into the distance. He knew it must be wide and deep, because even in this weather, it hadn't totally frozen over. He raised a set of binoculars and fixed his attention on the complex of buildings that sat in the center of the valley. Brattleford Prison. Through the crisp, cold air he could clearly make out the details of the facility. Three separate rows of fencing circled the perimeter. Each fence was six feet from its nearest neighbor, and all were topped with inward-mounted posts that held layers of razor wire. Even though it looked no different from the others, the man knew the center row of fencing was electrified. At approximately 25 foot intervals were high, glassed-in towers where armed guards kept close watch on the area. The grounds themselves were brightly lit and spotlights roved restlessly across the entire complex. The man shivered again. Not a place that people went willingly.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, two figures silently materialized.

"It's done," one of them breathed softly to his leader.

The man nodded once and, in a voice that might have been nothing more than the whistling of the wind in the trees, he replied, "Now . . . we wait."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**The Pentagon, Washington, D.C.**

"I don't like it!" Leeds said harshly, staring belligerently at the two other men in the office.

"I don't like it, either," Admiral Bennett replied coldly, "but there it is. There is simply nothing else we can do right now. Dr. Quest claims the technology isn't available and nothing I said would get him to change his story."

"Do you believe him?" Commander Barclay asked in a quiet tone.

Bennett was silent for a while, going over the encounter again in his mind. Leeds began to pace restlessly, and after a moment, Bennett glanced at the man irritably. Finally, he sighed and replied, "No . . . no, I don't think I do. There's something else going on there . . . he knows something. You could see him tense up when I brought up the idea of fully immersive VR. Not only that, when I started to push, he was ready to throw me out of the house. I'd be willing to take odds that he's solved the problem and is keeping quiet about it."

"Trying to patent the idea?" Barclay asked, sitting forward in concern.

Bennett shook his head sharply. "No. I don't buy that. It's not like him."

"Are you sure, Admiral?" Barclay asked. "I don't know the man . . . only met him the one time, after that hijacking fiasco . . . Are you absolutely certain that he's not playing this situation, looking to make a profit?"

Before Bennett could reply, Leeds jumped in. "Not a chance. No, Quest is sitting on this because he doesn't want anyone else to have it. He's afraid of how someone else might use the technology."

"I wasn't aware you knew Benton Quest that well," Bennett said sarcastically. Then in sudden, sharp irritation, he snapped, ''Sit down! Your pacing is getting on my nerves."

Leeds didn't sit, but he did come to a stop in front of Bennett's desk. "I don't know Quest. Never met 'em. But I do know Race Bannon, and he has enough boy scout in him that he would never work for a man that would sell that kind of technology to the highest bidder."

"Then if he isn't the problem, he is definitely going to be the target," Barclay observed. "What about added protection? Surely Quest can see the logic in that."

Bennett spread his hands in frustration. "What logic? Niemeyer's tied our hands. Quest is convinced his security is adequate, and I have no way of convincing him otherwise. I tried!" Bennett ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "And right now, Bannon isn't even there!"

"What!??!" both men exclaimed. "Where the hell is he?" Leeds demanded.

"In Colombia," Bennett answered in frustration.

"Then who's maintaining security?" Leeds demanded.

"Quest swears that the Compound is secure and can't be penetrated. I tried to convince him to take guards, but he wouldn't hear of it. Pushed him hard enough, in fact, that he started getting suspicious. But nothing would change his mind. Short of telling him the truth, there was nothing else I could say. And even then, it might not have done any good.

"What's the deal?" Leeds questioned. "Why does he have such an aversion to protection?"

"It's not protection he objects to," Bennett replied. "It's the _government_. He doesn't like government agents in his home."

"Why?"

Bennett flicked a warning glance at the man standing before him and replied, "Let's just say he has his reasons."

"But . . ."

"Leeds . . ." Barclay said in a flat, unquestionable voice, and shook his head. "Let it go." Then he turned back to Bennett. "Were you able to accomplish anything?"

Bennett nodded. "I sent a man back to keep an eye on the place. He won't be much help if there's an attack, but at least he can warn us if anything suspicious happens. And I was able to get Quest to agree to come to Washington after Christmas to meet with Dr. Wolencheck."

"We should send the additional security, whether he wants it or not," Barclay observed.

Bennett shook his head. "You forget. Niemeyer ordered us not to interfere. I'm stretching it, as it is, just putting one man there for surveillance." He sighed and slumped back in his chair. "At least Bannon is due back today. That is some comfort."

"It's not enough. We've got to warn Quest," Leeds insisted.

"We can't!" Bennett all but snarled in frustration. "Niemeyer has expressly forbidden it."

"I don't care!" Leeds said angrily. "Quest is too valuable to put at risk. If we can't put extra security on him, we have to warn him of the danger. If Baxter gets his hands on Quest or any of his family, we'll be in a lot worse shape than we are now."

"Leeds is right," Barclay agreed. "We have to do something."

"Don't you think I know that?" Bennett demanded. "I've got a call in to Niemeyer's office. I'm going to try and get in to see him sometime today. I'll lay the whole thing out for him again and push him to at least allow us to talk with Quest. I've got to make him see reason!"

"And if you can't?" Barclay asked.

"Then I'll go to the President!" Bennett replied.

"It's not good enough! It'll take too much time." Leeds snarled, beginning to pace again.

"It's all we can do," Bennett replied with finality.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Brattleford Prison**

The six men in black stood in the middle of the exercise yard and gazed around them at a sight that would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Bodies were strewn everywhere they looked. Their positions told a tale of fear and dementia. The main door into the prison stood open, held there by the body of a man in a guard uniform. His face was purple and bloated and his eyes protruded from the sockets. His swollen hands clawed blindly at the gate as though he had been trying desperately for escape when death caught him. The only sound to be heard anywhere was the incessant moaning of the wind.

The invaders had come equipped to break into the prison, but as it turned out, they simply walked in the front gate. During the final minutes of their lives, a number of the guards had tried to bolt from the facility. When the strike force arrived, they found dead men piled in the doors, propping open the gates. The bodies bore evidence of a fight and there was blood everywhere. All six men were sharply reminded of the sounds of shrieking and gunfire that had been heard when they began their stealthy move toward the prison facility. Perhaps the dying men had thought that getting out of the enclosure would save them. Perhaps, at the end, they were no longer sane. No one would ever know . . . there was no one left alive to tell the tale of what had happened in those last few minutes.

Swallowing hard against the rising sourness in his throat, the leader barked sharply, "Enough! Let's get what we came for and get out of here."

Reluctantly, the men moved to follow, as the leader of the group moved carefully past the dead guard in the doorway and into the prison itself. Even the sight in the yard could not prepare them for what greeted them inside the prison itself. The silence was absolute. Bodies sprawled in the hallways everywhere they went. All the faces were frozen in expressions of pain and madness.

"Where is this guy?" one man said hoarsely.

"Yeah," another one muttered. "Let's get this over with. I want out of here."

"He's in the maximum security wing. We have to get to the main control room. Baxter's computer genius is supposed to have taken care of the monitoring and obtained the codes we need to get to him."

The group moved quickly, dodging obstacles, until they reached the entrance to the main control room. The man in the lead reached out to drag a body out of the way, but discovered it rigid and inflexible. It was as though the man had turned to stone when he died. With the aid of two of the others, they dragged the body clear and then grasped the door handle with a silent prayer. It swung open without resistance. None of the electronic locks were engaged.

"Well, I guess she managed to get into the system," one of the men muttered softly. They stepped into the room, then stopped abruptly as the low murmur of voices was heard. The leader's breath caught sharply in his throat as he gazed at the huge bank of monitors mounted on the wall across from him. On their various screens, watchful guards moved with purpose, staff members went about their jobs with apparent efficiency, and prisoners lounged in their cells. There was no sign of alarm at all. After a frozen moment, the leader stumbled forwarded, leaving his assault team standing in a huddled group staring blindly at the monitors. He fell into the chair that sat in front of the main computer console. His mind was becoming so numbed to the devastation around him, that he hardly even registered the body of the man he had to forcibly shove out of the chair before he could sit. He tapped at the computer console for a moment and suddenly a new voice filled the room.

"Well, it's about time! What kept you?" The female voice sounded impatient.

The leader's voice sounded thick and raspy in his own ears as he replied sarcastically, "Sorry, Dr. Shemanski, there were . . . obstacles . . . that we had to get through."

"What kind of obstacles?" Edgerton's voice asked sharply.

"Bodies," the man replied flatly. "Where is this guy? I want to get him and get out of here before someone realizes there's something wrong here."

"You have plenty of time," Dr. Shemanski replied. "The outbound feed shows that everything is normal. You'll have until shift change at 7:00 a.m. before anyone is liable to discover anything amiss."

"Well, that's good," the man replied coldly. "If this guy is still in a wheelchair it will probably take us until then to get him out of here."

"What's the problem?" Edgerton demanded again.

"The good Dr. Nydek neglected to take into account enclosed hallways and the panic factor. We have dead bodies everywhere. Some corridors are totally blocked and the only way through is to climb over. We're going to have to clear a path. Oh, and you might also tell him that it would have been nice if he had warned us that the dead were going to be as stiff as boards. It makes moving them a bit difficult." The man glanced down at his feet and shuddered at the sight of the man lying like a hard rubber doll, his limbs molded into the shape of the chair he had been sitting in.

Distantly, he heard the voice of Dr. Nydek say, "Advanced rigor . . . interesting . . . didn't know it would do that . . . have to do more tests . . ."

"You go right ahead, Peter," Dr. Shemanski replied to him soothingly, "I'll be right along." Her voice turned brisk again as she said, "Alright, let's get this show on the road then. The computer files say that Surd is in cellblock A32. That's almost exactly at the center of the facility."

"Fine. So how do we get there?"

The monitor in front of him changed and the plump face of Dr. Shemanski appeared. She was frowning slightly as she gazed at the information in front of her. Dr. Edgerton stood stiffly, bent slightly at the waist, looking over her shoulder. Finally, Shemanski sighed and looked up. "It's not going to be easy. This is a supermax facility . . . one of the new, maximum security prisons that only houses the worst of the worst. You have that special transmitter and headset I gave you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, put on the headset and turn on the transmitter. Then I'll talk you through the place. The first part will be easy enough. Leave the control room, go up the hallway until you reach the first corridor to your right. Go down that hallway. You're going to have to find the head guard . . . he should be there in the control room somewhere. At least he was when the gas started to take effect and I never saw him leave. You'll need the . . ."

"You were watching all of this while it happened?" the man interrupted in horror.

"Of course," she replied coldly. "How else do you suppose we could analyze the effectiveness of the nerve agent? As I was saying, you'll need the electronic swipe key the head guard carries." She paused briefly. "Well? Are you just going to sit there? I thought you wanted to get this done."

The man stumbled to his feet, suddenly afraid he was going to vomit. He wanted out. The hell with this whole business.

"There isn't a hole deep enough to hide in."

That cold voice froze him where he stood. Raising his head, he saw Edgerton glaring at him. Every monitor in the room suddenly contained his image. "We would find you . . . hunt you down like a dog. Mr. Baxter does not tolerate betrayal." It was not a threat, the man realized, but a promise. He shuddered violently and finally replied hoarsely,

"Alright. Then let's get it done. I want out of this hellhole." He waved to the men with him and they searched quickly until they found the head guard. Gingerly, the man pulled the chain from around the man's neck and dangled the plastic card in front of one of the monitors. "Is this it?"

"Yes," Shemanski replied. "Now, out the door, down the corridor to your first right. Then down that corridor through three locked security doors, and then right again. Get moving. I'll give you added directions as we go."

The six men moved out of the control room and began following the directions they were given, moving ever deeper into the facility. As they went, they dragged bodies out of the way and shoved them into corridors or other rooms so they cleared an exit path as they went. Finally they came to a stop in front of a solid metal door. A swipe card reader and a keypad were mounted on the wall beside it. The door had no handle of any kind. It sat at the junction of four corridors. The intersection was larger and more open than any they had seen yet, and as they looked around, they could detect a host of equipment set into the walls. It was all cleverly disguised and they had to peer closely to see it at all.

"What is this place?" the leader asked uneasily. "It's . . . different."

"This is the entrance into the supermax facility. The area of the prison you've been moving through to this point is the standard maximum security prison. The door in front of you leads to an underground tunnel that will access the rest of it."

"I don't get it," one of the others commented.

"A supermax facility is the Bureau of Prison's modern answer to Alcatraz," Edgerton replied. "Only the worst inmates are housed here. They are the uncontrollable, the deadly, and the unreformed troublemakers. The only way to get here is to commit murder . . . either as an original crime or against a guard in another facility. And once sentenced here, the odds are you will die here. To this point, no one has ever been released from a supermax prison. Inmates are locked down 22-23 hours a day. All are in solitary confinement. The only people they ever see are the guards when they are moved to the exercise facility or their lawyer . . . if that person chooses to come here. The inside is a maze . . . all twists and turns into blind hallways and dead-end corridors. Under normal circumstances, there's no escape from one of these places."

"You should run into no further problems with blocked hallways," Shemanski added. "The guards themselves don't stay in this wing other than when prisoners need to be moved." The woman paused briefly and the leader of the assault team could hear the click of computer keys over his headset. "Alright, you will need three things to get into the door. You are going to swipe the card in the reader and key in the following code." She rattled off a string of letters and numbers. "You got that? You're going to be time dependent on this. The system will only give you 20 seconds to input that before locking down."

The leader's throat was dry and tight as he commented, "Another security procedure, I assume."

"Exactly. Once you've input that in you should get a green beacon light on the reader. When you do, tell me. I then have another 30 seconds to get and reply to a challenge code in the control room that will trigger the door. As soon as it opens, get inside. It will shut behind you."

"Can't we prop it open? I don't want to be shut up in there."

"No!" Edgerton said, sharply. "You'll trigger a whole host of other automatic lock down measures, not to mention warning every law enforcement agency in about ten surrounding states, if that door doesn't close within the allotted amount of time."

"We've wasted enough time," Shemanski said impatiently. "We still need to get Surd out of the facility and loaded on the helicopter before the authorities realize something is wrong. Let's get this done. Do it . . . _now_."

The man hesitated fractionally, then reached out and swiped the card through the reader. It beeped at him and a red light began flashing near the keypad. With a trembling, he keyed in the code the woman had given him. For about ten seconds the light by the keypad glowed a steady red. Then, with a soft beep, it changed.

"Green."

He could hear the woman working at the keyboard over his headset. Suddenly, with a soft sigh of air, the door before them swung open on silent hinges. The man took a deep breath and then said sharply, "Let's go."

The six men moved quickly into the tunnel in front of them. The leader didn't look back as he strode purposefully deeper into the complex. The corridor moved downward at an angle for about twenty yards before it began to rise again. His men followed him, not looking around. All were focused on the job ahead. They wanted nothing more than to finish what they had been sent to do and then get out. Eventually, the tunnel leveled off and opened out into a round open entryway. Eight, evenly spaced corridors opened off of the room, radiating out like spokes of a wheel.

"Which way?" the man asked.

"Third hall on your left. Start to count the doors and corridors. This is a maze and there will be no landmarks or points of reference."

"You," the leader pointed at one of the men, "come with me; the rest of you, stay here. We don't need to risk getting anyone lost in this rabbit warren." Following Dr. Shemanski's instructions, the two men moved into the bowels of the building. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. It was brightly lit, even in the middle of the night. The walls were a muted shade of white, as was the floor. The silence was eerie. An occasional soft rush of air could be heard as unseen vents allowed warm air to move through the corridors. But other than that, there was absolutely nothing . . . no people . . . no movement . . . no sound . . . nothing but empty white halls seemingly devoid of life, and silence.

Finally, Shemanski called a halt to their progress. "There should be a door with another swipe reader very near you on your left. Do you see it?"

"Yes." The man moved up to the door. Like the one that led into this complex, it was solid metal with no handle or window, but there was a code stenciled in silver on it. Directly across from the door he could just make out an opaque panel that was slightly different from the surrounding walls. _Surveillance,_ the man thought to himself. _What could a total paraplegic have done to merit this kind of security?_

"There's markings on the door. It says 4D32."

"Good. That's the one we're looking for. We'll follow the same procedure as before, with a different code." The woman read off a second string of numbers and letters. Without hesitation, the man swiped the card and keyed in the code.

"Go," he said, as the light on the keypad turned green, and stepped back from the door. After a moment, it swung open silently, and the two men looked into the cell. It was about 12 feet deep and about eight feet wide. The room contained a bed, a desk, a shelf with a small television set, a fluorescent light fixture, and a round pedestal that both men assumed normally served as a chair. All of these items were made of solid concrete and appeared to be a continuous part of the concrete walls and floor. Across from the door, at the far end of the room, was the first window they had seen . . . a narrow slit about 5 inches wide and about 3 feet tall. To one side, they could also see a toilet and sink of metal that were securely set in the concrete of the walls and floor. A small shower could be seen on the wall opposite the sink. The only other thing in the cell was a large, encased chair, which held the body of a man. All that was visible was his head. The top of the skull was covered with wild, white hair that seemed to stick out in all directions. His face looked old, his expression slack, and his pale blue eyes stared at the ceiling sightlessly. The man gave no sign that he knew they were there. Both men jumped as one of the monitoring devices on the chair beeped softly.

The leader moved swiftly into the cell and spoke urgently, "Dr. Surd? Dr. Surd, can you hear me?" The man didn't even twitch. "What's wrong with him?" he asked Edgerton and Shemanski sharply.

"I have no idea," Edgerton replied, "but we don't have time to worry about it now. Just get him out of there and we'll take care of it once he's back here. You're running out of time."

"On the back of the chair there should be an override switch," Shemanski informed him. "It will be yellow. Flip that and it will allow you to guide the chair wherever you want it to go. Be sure you close the door to the cell behind you and then follow my instructions."

The two men did as they were instructed, and before long they found themselves back in the round room where the others were waiting. Gathering the rest of them, the men moved back down through the underground tunnel and into the main facility again. As they exited the door, a fetid stench met them.

"What the hell . . ." the man in the lead gasped. He looked around. The bodies that had been so rigid not more than an hour and a half before were now little more than piles of rotting flesh and bones. Growing pools of fluid swamped the floor. Next to him, one man doubled over, vomiting violently. It was more than any of them could take. All six broke and ran. The leader retained just enough sanity to take the chair with him as he went.

Out. He had to get out. He couldn't take it any longer.

And through the roaring of the blood in his ears, he heard Shemanski's voice saying, "Advanced decomposition. Fascinating. Peter will be quite pleased."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Rockport High School**

"So you'll be there, right?" Jessie asked anxiously.

"You know it," the black girl replied excitedly. I wouldn't miss this party for anything. Malcolm's been bugging me for days, wanting to know if I'd gotten the invitation. We were starting to worry, girl."

Jessie sighed. "I know. There's just so much to do, what with the wedding and the snowstorm and Hadji's guests from Bangalore and all. I practically had to sit on Jonny and _make_ him help me finish the invitations last night."

Becca Harris waved the bright red envelope she held and grinned as she slammed her locker door closed. "Well, I can now tell Malcolm it's official. You can bank on us being there."

"Cool! Look, I gotta run or I'm not going to catch everyone before my next class. I'll call you before the party, okay?"

"Sounds good. And remember what I said . . . you need an extra set of hands to help set up, you just call me."

"Will do!" Jessie replied as she spotted a couple of girls further up the hall. "Hey, Nancy . . . Beth . . . wait up!"

Several hours later, she returned to her locker to find Jonny waiting for her. "Did you hook up with everybody?" he asked as she approached.

"Yep. My last were Mike and Mary, I bumped into them coming out of English. How about you?"

"All I've got left is Matt. I thought I'd get him at lunch, but he must have left school because I couldn't find him. He's got Spanish last period so I thought we could hang around and catch him as he left. He should be out in about half an hour."

"You sure it's meeting the full period? It's the last day of the term. Maybe they'll get out early."

Jonny looked at his girlfriend skeptically. "Are you kidding? Have you ever known old man Burroughs to let _any_ class out early???"

"You do have a point," Jessie conceded. Then she hesitated, looking at him quietly.

"What?"

"Jonny, I really do wish you'd reconsider about not inviting Bobby."

"No," he replied flatly.

"But he's been one of your very best friends for years!"

"I don't care. He won't come without _**her**_ and I don't want her anywhere near you."

Jessie's eyes flashed dangerously. "Jonathan Benton Quest, don't you dare use me as an excuse for this. I can deal with Francesca Hamilton. This has nothing to do with me. This is _**you**_. You still haven't come to terms with everything that happened between the two of you. You get angry every time she comes anywhere near you. You have got to learn to let it go."

Jonny turned and yanked his locker door open viciously. "I don't have _anything_ to come to terms with. Francesca used me, tried to steal from my father, and almost got you killed. I have every right to hate her guts . . . and I do. End of story."

"No, it's not!" Jessie grabbed his arm and tried to make him look at her. "It can't be. I'm not saying you have to forgive her for what she's done. And I sure don't mean that you should ever trust her. God knows, I never will. But you have to learn to let the anger go. It will eat you alive if you don't. Jeez, Jonny, look at you! It's causing you to become alienated from one of your closest friends."

"Bobby knows how I feel about her."

Jessie snorted derisively. "And that's supposed to make a difference? It sure as hell didn't make a difference two years ago when I hated her and you thought she was God's gift!"

Jonny flinched as though Jessie had struck him. "That's not fair . . ."

"Why not?" Jessie demanded, now as angry as he had been moments before. "I tried to tell you something wasn't right, but you wouldn't listen either. She could do no wrong. All you could see were her big violet eyes and gorgeous figure. Why do you expect Bobby Evans to be any different?"

"But he knows what she's capable of. We've told him what she did."

"It doesn't matter. Bobby is one of the most fair, forgiving, and tolerant people we know. As far as he's concerned, she lived through hell in Egypt and has paid her dues for the things she did. He thinks she has learned her lesson and wants nothing more than to be accepted and get on with her new life. And you can bet that she's shown absolutely no chinks in that façade. All you're doing is coming off as petty and vindictive."

"I don't care. I'm sorry Bobby can't accept it. I'd be happy to have him at the party. All he has to do is leave her at home. I don't want her at the Compound."

Jessie opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped abruptly, her face going briefly blank before smiling at someone over Jonny's shoulder. "Hey, Matt! We were just coming to look for you. You out of class already?"

"Yeah. We had a written test and I finished up early," Matt replied, coming up and leaning against a nearby locker. "What's up?"

"We just wanted to give you your invitation to our Christmas party," Jonny said, handing him the bright red envelope.

Matt took it slowly, staring at it for a long time without saying a word. Finally, he looked up and asked Jonny point blank, "Are you inviting Bobby?"

Jonny shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

Matt's eyes fell before Jonny's intense gaze and for a long time he didn't say anything. Eventually, he sighed and said softly. "He and Dad got into it really bad last night. Screaming at each other and everything. Dad told him that he was grounded for the rest of the month, that he had to stay in the house all the way through the holidays. No dating, no parties, nothing. Bobby told him flat out that he wouldn't do it and that he was going to come and go as he saw fit. Dad was absolutely furious. For a minute, I thought he was going to smack Bobby."

"Oh, Matt . . ." Jessie whispered softly. "I'm so sorry."

"And then Marla showed up. She'd come to return a gift that Bobby had given her for her birthday last August. Said that she just couldn't keep it. Bobby was still mad at Dad and he unloaded on Marla. She was practically in hysterics before he was done. I ended up taking her home because she was so upset." He looked at his two friends helplessly. "Everything is just going to hell."

Jonny closed his locker door softly, not trusting himself to say anything at all. He knew that if he did, he'd regret it later.

Matt looked again at the invitation that he still held in his hand and after a minute, he held it out to Jonny. "I'm sorry, man. I really want to come, but I just can't."

Jonny looked at his friend, shaken, and asked, "But why? Matt, this had nothing to do with you. We want you there."

The other young man shook his head. "He's my brother, Jonny. I know he's being an idiot, but I can't turn my back on him. When the crash comes, he's going to need everyone he can get. I think his relationship with Marla is finished. I can't see her coming back to him after last night. And if I come to this party, he's going to see it as me siding with you against him. I can't do that. I'm sorry." Matt turned to walk away. "I'll see you guys around."

"Matt, wait . . ." Jessie called after him.

He looked back at her questioningly. Jessie turned to gaze at Jonny with a pleading expression, but he just shook his head. Finally, she sighed and turned back. "If you change your mind, you're welcome to come."

Matt nodded silently and walked away. After a minute, Jonny said gruffly, "Come on. It's getting late. Let's get going." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Pentagon  
Washington D.C.**

It was late afternoon, and darkness was beginning to gather as Admiral Bennett sat working at the desk in his Pentagon office. His meeting with Niemeyer earlier that afternoon had not gone well, and he had returned from it with a splitting headache. He had taken a couple of aspirin and lay down for a while, but had soon risen again and gone back to work. Now, he sat in a warm pool of light formed by his desk lamp as the gathering dusk threw the rest of his office into shadow. His attention was focused on a pad of paper where he was trying to organize his thoughts for his appointment with the President the next day. He wouldn't have long . . . only about 15 minutes . . . so it was vital that he make the most of that time. He had to convince the man to override Niemeyer's edict about keeping Dr. Quest in the dark. A sharp rap on his door interrupted him. Before he could respond, it burst open and Commander Barclay strode in, followed closely by Isaac Wolenchek and Connor Leeds. Dr. Wolenchek carefully closed the door behind him, and Bennett didn't miss the careful way he surveyed the outer office as he did so.

"Admiral, we've got a serious problem," Barclay began without preamble.

Bennett's eyes flicked from one man to the other, alarmed. "Problem? Dr. Quest . . ."

Barclay shook his head. "No, not Quest. But related to it, I'm sure. Someone's taken out Brattleford Prison."

"'Taken out Brattleford Prison?' What do you mean by that? You mean, there's been a jailbreak? From _that_ facility? I thought that was next to impossible!"

"No, not a jailbreak," Barclay replied grimly. "I mean 'taken out' . . . totally. Everyone in the facility is dead."

Bennett stared in stunned silence, unable to say a word. Finally, he gasped, "But . . . how?"

It was Wolenchek who replied. "It sounds like a direct attack. Probably some form of gas. But it's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"There's no clue as to what happened? What about the security monitors?"

Wolenchek shook his head. "Tampered with in some way, but we can't figure out how. All they show is the prison continuing on throughout the night as if nothing was wrong. No alarms, no glitches, nothing. Everything appeared to be fine right up to the point when the first guard arrived for the shift change at about 6:45 this morning. Then, suddenly, all the monitoring equipment showed nothing but carnage."

"Can we tell what time the place was hit?"

Barclay shook his head. "No. It could have been anywhere between 8:00 p.m. last night and dawn this morning. We know the evening shift change came off without a problem, but we've been unable to find anyone who even attempted to contact them after that."

"What about the bodies? Can't we at least determine a time of death?"

Barclay and Wolenchek exchanged a look and then both turned to look at Connor Leeds. For the first time, Bennett noticed that the man had not stepped up to the desk with the other two. Rather, he was sitting on the edge of a chair on the other side of the office. He was leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees and his head in his hands. The overall impression was one of total exhaustion.

"No." Leeds' voice was low and hoarse. Slowly, he raised his head and Bennett was shocked by what he saw. Nothing ever fazed the brash Irishman. But now he looked as though he had seen the horrors of Hades itself and couldn't rid himself of the memory.

Bennett exchanged an alarmed look with the other two men and rose from his chair to come around the desk. He stopped in front of the seated man and asked, "What do you mean, 'no'? We need to narrow down the time as closely as possible. Autopsies will . . ."

"Autopsies won't be possible," Leeds replied in a flat, unemotional voice. He didn't look at Bennett . . . didn't seem focused on anything at all.

"Explain yourself!"

Barclay stepped up and caught at Bennett's arm, drawing him back from Leeds. "I'm sorry, sir, but he's right."

"But . . ."

"Admiral, there was virtually nothing left. Nothing but rapidly disintegrating bone."

"There was slime on the floors," Leeds said distantly. "It was all that was left. Even the bones were dissolving. And the smell . . . nothing could keep out the smell. It was everywhere." He reached up and rubbed his nose compulsively. "You could smell it as soon as you entered the valley." He blinked constantly. "It was sweet and gagging and the closer you got, the worse it was. You couldn't shut it out . . . couldn't get used to it. It just got worse and worse and . . ."

Barclay reached out and laid a hand on Leeds' shoulder, "It's all right, Connor. Just rest now."

"I can still smell it," the man said, as though Barclay had not spoken. Then, "I think I always will." Then he lowered his head into his hands again and was silent.

The three men drew away and Bennett turned to the other two and hissed, "What happened out there???"

Wolenchek shook his head. "We really don't know, Admiral. It's like nothing anyone has ever seen. Every living thing in the place is dead and rotting at a terrifying speed." His eyes flicked to the younger man sitting across the room. "This has really shaken him."

"He was there." Bennett made it a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Barclay agreed. "I sent him as soon as I heard there was a problem there."

"Why?"

"Because Brattleford Prison is the facility that Jeremiah Surd was being held in."

"Surd!"

Barclay nodded grimly. "In the Supermax section."

"So Surd's dead, then," Bennett said thoughtfully.

"We don't think so," Wolenchek replied.

"What?" Bennett blurted. "You just said everything living had died."

Both men nodded and Wolencheck continued, "And he might be dead. But if he is, what happened to his wheel chair?" The man nodded, seeing comprehension dawning in Bennett's eyes. "Surd's cell was closed and locked down like normal, but there was no sign of the chair, either in the cell or anywhere else in the facility. Leeds searched every inch of the place looking for it." Wolenchek glanced again at the man sitting across the room. "I think that's part of the reason he's so shaken."

"And from what Leeds could tell," Barclay added, "he thinks that a path had been deliberately cleared from the front gate through the facility to the entrance to the supermax wing."

"But why? Why is Surd valuable enough to anyone to slaughter an entire prison full of people? And how was it done? To kill everyone more or less at the same time and yet leave one person alive?"

"I have a theory on that," Wolenchek mused. Out of the corner of his eye, Bennett saw Leeds head snap up sharply, and for the first time he seemed with them again. "I think that in some way a gas was introduced . . . probably a nerve agent of some sort. It's like nothing I've ever seen, but the development of this kind of weapon continues to go on, even though it's been banned in every civilized part of the world."

"But how did they avoid killing Surd?" Before anyone could speak, Bennett answered his own question. "His self-contained air supply. Of course. But that still doesn't answer the question of why."

It was Wolenchek that replied. "As well as being a brilliant research scientist in the development of nerve agents, he is also highly skilled in the area of computers and software applications. The last rumors I heard said that he was working in the area of VR. If Benton Quest was working in this field, then Surd was, too. He hates Quest and would do anything to outdo him."

"Are you telling me that someone . . . probably Baxter . . . has gotten his hands on a man capable of solving the weapon's problems?" Bennett demanded in horror.

Wolenchek shook his head. "No. It's not common knowledge, but Surd is totally unresponsive. No one knows for certain what caused it, but when he was finally tracked down the last time, they found him totally catatonic."

"Brain dead?"

"No. More like his brain functions fine, but it can't connect to the world around him. Probably the only one who knows what happened is Julia Canova, and she's not talking."

"Where's she?" Bennett asked, watching Leeds out of the corner of his eye. The man had sat back in the chair and was staring that the others with an intensity that seemed to border on fixation. Leeds' eyes glittered in the dim light and Bennett wondered what was going through his mind. He made a mental note to himself to tell Barclay that Leeds was to see one of the service psychologists at the earliest opportunity. "Is she secure?"

Barclay grimaced a little. "For the present. She's in a facility in Texas. It probably needs to be one with stronger security, but there really isn't much we can do. Females that have committed her types of crimes are exceedingly rare and we don't have any federal women's facilities that are appropriate. I know the Bureau of Prisons has been negotiating with several states to have her transferred to a maximum security state facility, but so far it hasn't happened. I have warned the staff at the facility she is currently in about the possible escape risk, but . . ."

"How do you warn against something like what happened at Brattleford?" a harsh voice demanded. Leeds has been quiet for so long that the sound of his voice made all of them jump. "No one saw it coming there. I went through that entire facility . . . I counted what was left of piles of bones. Every guard, every prisoner, every support person were all accounted for. No one got out. I don't think they knew what was happening until it was too late. How do you warn against _that_???"

The other three men where silent. There was nothing they could say. Abruptly, Leeds changed the subject.

"Did Niemeyer authorize protection for the Quests?"

Bennett sighed. "No. The best I was able to do was to get him to agree to one man for surveillance of the area. And we all know that that person is already there. I just didn't bother to tell Niemeyer that. He _wants_ Quest set up as a target. He thinks that the one man can keep an eye out and when there is suspicious activity, he can call us and we'll send reinforcements. But Niemeyer says I can't send those without his direct authorization!"

"The man is an idiot!" Barclay exclaimed, cutting off Leeds as he started to protest. "He's asking for Quest to be taken."

"Niemeyer claims that we can't go against the wishes of a private citizen and that if Quest feels his security measures are adequate, then who are we to argue."

"Quest needs to be told," Leeds said in a strangely quiet yet highly charged tone of voice.

Bennett shook his head again. "We can't do it. We've just got to make the best of it and hope that we can locate Baxter and retrieve the weapon before the man moves on Quest." Bennett looked sharply at Leeds. "That's an order, Leeds. Let it go. Clear?" After a moment the dark haired man slumped back into the chair and closed his eyes.

"Yes," he replied, his voice suddenly filled with exhaustion.

The three remaining men exchanged looks again and Bennett made a sudden decision. Stepping over to the chair, he leaned down and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Go get some rest, son. I don't want to see you here tomorrow. Also, call Central Medical and make arrangements to go in and talk to their clinical staff. Clear?"

Leeds looked up at Bennett with eyes that were clouded and murky. "Yes, sir," was his only reply.

Bennett turned back to the others. "Barclay, you are to find Surd. I don't care where he is or what it takes . . . find him. I don't want Baxter figuring out how to revive the man. And Isaac, I need for you to start work on a defense against this thing. If the worst happens, I want to be able to destroy it. Questions?"

Both men shook their heads. With a final glance at Leeds, who still sat slumped in the chair, Bennett said, "Then get to it."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Quest Compound**

Twilight was falling as Jessie and Jonny's snowmobile broke through the trees at the Quest Compound and headed for the main house. Jessie gazed anxiously toward the big hanger that housed the Quest aircraft south of the main compound. Nothing. Everything appeared just as it had that morning.

As though reading her thoughts, Jonny turned his head and yelled back to her, "He would have hangered the plane."

She squeezed his waist gratefully, acknowledging his comment, and wished desperately that she was in the house and knew that her parents were home safely. Reading her thoughts again, Jonny gunned the engine and sped on. He cut the engine as they approached the house, and slewed it to a stop at the front door. Both of them were off the machine and striding toward the entrance almost before it came to a halt.

As they entered, both of them heard Race's voice saying, "Well, University of Illinois has some good research programs."

"Yes," Benton's voice replied, "but they aren't strong in mining. It's mainly coal mining, and even those mines are mostly closed."

_"DAD!!!"_ Jessie flung herself at her father exuberantly, as she erupted through the dining room door.

"Well, now here's a greeting!" Race replied, catching up his daughter and grinning delightedly. "Hi, Poncheta."

Jonny was two steps behind her, grinning widely. "Hey, Race . . . man, it's good to have you home!"

Race squeezed Jessie tightly as he reached out to give Jonny a quick hug, as well. "You have no idea how good it is to be here."

"Where's Mom?" Jessie asked, giving her father one more tight squeeze before releasing him.

"In our suite, unpacking. So are the two of you done for the term?"

"Yep," Jonny replied with a wide grin. Jessie kissed her father and left the room quickly, heading in the direction of the Bannon quarters at the far end of the house. "So what are you guys up to?"

Benton, Rajeev, and Kefira were all sitting at the dining room table. There were books and pamphlets spread out over the entire surface. As Jonny glanced over, Kefira smiled at him.

"Where's Hadji?" he asked her.

"He is upstairs in his room. He just received a telephone call from Bangalore."

Jonny's smile faded. "Is there a problem?"

"I do not believe so." Kefira grimaced slightly. "At least, nothing more than usual." The two of them exchanged a look and a wealth of information seemed to pass between them. Kefira smiled again. "He should be down shortly."

"Slammin'," Jonny replied, tugging off his coat. He threw it over the back of a vacant chair and then settled comfortably into it. Across the room, the door to the kitchen swung open and Mrs. Evans entered carrying a tray. She set cups of steaming hot cocoa in front of the others. Jonny was about to ask if he could have some as well, when she set a cup in front of him.

"I heard you come in the door," she replied to his unspoken question.

"Thanks," he replied, smiling at her. Then his smile dimmed slightly, thinking of Bobby and Matt. Mrs. Evans nodded and turned away. Jonny wasn't sure if she was angry or just being her normal, reserved self. Whichever it was, he still felt really bad about the entire mess.

"So, have you made up your mind which schools you're going to visit?"

Kefira gazed helplessly at all the materials spread out before her and replied, "Not yet. I am not even sure where to begin."

Benton chuckled, "Oh, it's not that bad."

"True," Rajeev agreed. "After all, we have eliminated a large number of schools already."

"Including all of those I had intended to apply to!" Kefira replied.

"If you are going to do this, daughter, it is only proper that you chose the best school you can. While I am sure the schools in Missouri and Colorado have fine programs, I have to agree with Dr. Quest. Their curricula are too focused and technically oriented. You must have the broader-based theoretical background, as well, which you will not received there." Rajeev picked up a large, color brochure, which had been lying in front of him and began flipping through it. "I am impressed by the sound of the program at M.I.T."

Benton nodded. "It's a fine school with an outstanding engineering program. And I know the dean there personally. He's a good man, equally dedicated to education and research . . . a combination that's not always easy to find in the larger, high profile schools. He's provided strong guidance to his faculty and staff, and they follow his philosophy willingly."

"Yes, I understand," Kefira replied, "but I also like the sound of the program at Columbia. It affords the same broad-based theoretical background, but both its Industrial and Civil Engineering programs offer specific course offerings in mining engineering. And what is more, they have a six-year program that allows for the concurrent completion of both a bachelor's and master's degree. And I can take the master's specialization in mining engineering."

"But if that's what you're interested in," Race joined in, "The University of Arizona in Tuscon offers the same type of program, and it's only a five year program, rather than six."

"But it does not offer the specialization in mining engineering." Kefira pointed out.

"Then, what about the program at the University of California at Berkeley?" Rajeev asked, shoving a brochure at Kefira.

Kefira shook her head sharply and shoved it right back at him. "No. They offer no specific coursework in mining at all . . . at any level."

"I don't get it," Jonny said. "It sounds to me like the program at Columbia is perfect for what you want. Why go to the trouble of looking at the other schools if they don't have a program just like the one at Columbia?"

"Now, Jonny," his father said, "you know that everything has its pluses and minuses. It's just wise to look at all of the possible choices."

"Yes," Rajeev agreed. "I do not believe she should make this choice too hastily."

Kefira tossed the brochure she was leafing through into the center of the table in irritation and glared at the two men across from her. Then she turned to Jonny and replied, "Haste has nothing to do with this. They simply do not want me to attend Columbia."

"Why not?" Jonny asked in confusion. "I thought it was a really good school. After all, it's the one Hadji picked." Then Jonny paused, and his gaze narrowed slightly as he glanced at his father and Rajeev. "Or is that the problem?"

Both men shook their heads sharply, as Kefira replied sourly, "No, that is not it. They do not like the nature of the degree requirements."

"Which are?"

"I must intern for a year in a working mine. And the internship requires that I work in all phases of the operation. My father feels it is inappropriate for me to be working as a miner."

"It is not necessary," Rajeev replied stubbornly. "You will not be required to do the work of a common miner at home, so I do not see the point in wasting your time doing it as part of your course of study."

"But I can not fully understand the difficulties that go into the job if I have not done it myself. I need the experience in assessing the lie of the stone beds, tracing the fault lines, and setting the detonation charges."

_"NO!"_ Rajeev exploded, alarm written all over his face. "It is too dangerous!"

Jonny and Kefira exchanged knowing glances. "Oh, I get it," Jonny said to her. "Has he always been like this?"

"Yes. Although for a time, I thought he was getting better."

Jonny shrugged and grinned. "My dad's just as bad. I think it's a parent thing."

"That must be it," Kefira agreed solemnly.

Race, Benton and Rajeev all glared at the two young people, and Benton was just about to retort when Hadji strode into the room with a scowl on his face. Before he could say a word, Kefira turned to him and asked, "Hadji, does it not make sense to have first hand experience of processes you will be required to supervise, even if you know you will not be personally doing them on a daily basis?"

"Of course," Hadji replied confidently as he pulled up another chair and sat down beside her at the table. "Father has always told us that theory is no substitute for actual experience."

Rajeev sighed and tried again, "This is what you hire well-trained workmen and experienced foremen to do. You do not need to be able to do their jobs; particularly when there is no way they can do yours. You do not have time for such things."

"I am not saying that I would be out doing their job!" Kefira exclaimed in frustration. "I am saying that if I know _how_ to do their jobs, I can better understand what I can reasonably ask of them and what I can not."

Jonny and Hadji looked from Kefira to her father and then at each other. "This is an on-going argument, isn't it?" Jonny asked his brother.

As Hadji nodded, they all heard the phone ring. Benton began to rise, but in the middle of the second ring it cut off abruptly. Benton settled back into the chair, saying, "Mrs. Evans must have gotten it." Then he looked at his guests who were glaring at each other across the table. He sighed and said, "Both of you have valid points."

Mrs. Evans stuck her head around the corner. "Mr. Bannon, you have a phone call."

"Alright. Thanks, Mrs. Evans. I'll get it in the family room." As he rose to go, Race commented. "You know, this can't be resolved right this minute. You need to visit the school. You never know. Once you get there, you may find that you hate it and may change your mind totally."

"A valid point," Rajeev conceded, and Kefira nodded reluctantly.

"So we add it to the list of the places to visit and go on from there," Benton said, tossing the brochure into a small pile set off to one side. Then he scanned the table. "Is that it, then?"

"I believe so," Rajeev replied, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

Benton nodded, "That gives us six to visit and look at more closely. That's not bad. I just wish that you could stay, Rajeev, and be with us when we talk with them."

"I wish I could, too," he agreed, "but I am afraid I must leave tomorrow. Kefira was correct when she said that we have problems in our northern mine which require my attention. And I have the initial meetings with the crews to begin development of the new stone beds that we acquired from the Rafiq family. That simply cannot be delayed. These are set high in the mountains and if we do not get the preliminary work done now, before the winter snows hit, we will be behind an entire year. I want to have actual production set to begin this spring. So I must return." Rajeev turned and looked Benton Quest straight in the eyes. "But I have no concerns. Hadji was right in insisting that I bring my daughter here. I know now that she is safe and well in this place, and that I can trust you to help guide her in what she chooses to do. I must thank you again for your kindness, Dr. Quest." He glanced at his daughter. "I do not believe that I have ever known her to be so happy."

Kefira leaped up and ran around the table to throw her arms around her father. "Oh, Father . . ." she choked.

Benton glanced over at Hadji and the look on his eldest son's face said it all. Turning back to Rajeev, he smiled and said, "It is my pleasure."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Race nodded to Mrs. Evans in thanks as he passed her in the hall. Entering the family room, he picked up the phone.

"Bannon." There was a long moment of silence. "Hello?"

"Bannon." It was not a question.

"Yes, this is Race Bannon. Who is this?"

"I need to talk to you. In person. Now."

"Who is this?" Race demanded. Then something in his memory clicked and he froze. _**"Leeds?!?"**_ Blood thundered in his ears, as a cascade of old images tumbled through his brain. He felt his face alternately flush and then go hard and cold. "Over my dead body! I want no part of you!"

"Bannon, listen to me!" the voice at the other end said desperately. "This is important! We have a situation here . . ."

"I don't give a damn what you have there, you bastard. You could be up to your ass in alligators, and I still wouldn't care."

"I'm trying to help you! You don't understand . . ."

"I understand all too well. I understand that you're a plague and that everyone around you ends up dead. I understand that the only thing you care about is power. And I understand that I don't want you anywhere within a hundred miles of anyone I care about!"

"It would serve you right if I just left you in the dark, you arrogant son of a bitch," Leeds snarled.

"It would probably mean I'd have more of a chance of surviving!" Race snarled back. Through the phone line, Race heard a sudden, sharp gasp of breath, as though someone had just struck Leeds in the stomach. There was a sharp thump followed by the sound of shattering glass . . . then, nothing but stark silence. Finally, Race heard Leeds inhale again, a deep, shaky sound.

"Listen, Bannon, you have to believe that I wouldn't have contacted you if it wasn't vitally important." Leeds finally replied hoarsely.

Race held the phone away from his ear and stared at it, that unconscious prickle down his spine that had always warned him of danger, kicking in suddenly. He had known Leeds since he first came to I-1, and he had never heard the man sound like _that_. Slowly, he returned the phone to his ear and, almost out of habit, stated, "You've bent the truth and put people at risk for your own private agenda all too often. Why should I trust you now?" 

"You have no reason to. I know that. But what's going on right now is so far beyond anything we've ever dealt with before, you can't begin to imagine. And it involves the Quests. You _have_ to hear me out!"

Race caught movement out of the corner of his eye. As he looked up, he saw Jessie and Estella walk by the door, heading for the dining room. Unconsciously, he lowered his voice. "Alright, I'm listening."

"It isn't safe to talk on the phone. We need to meet face-to-face."

"What's wrong? Afraid you're being watched?" Race asked sarcastically. Then he stopped, thinking about the man's reactions and what he had said earlier. Race's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Or is it that someone's watching _us_?"

"You better _pray_ someone's watching your back, Bannon," Leeds snapped in frustration. "Right now, you don't know how badly you need it!"

Race sighed. "Alright, I'll meet you. When?"

"Tonight. I can be there by 10:00 p.m."

**"NO!"** Race said sharply. "I told you . . . I don't want you anywhere near my family. I have to be in New York tomorrow. I'll meet you there."

"That's not a good idea," Leeds said, sounding almost panicky. "You need stick close to Quest."

"Listen, Leeds, I don't know what your problem is, but the Quests are safer here than anywhere else in the world. And I don't have any choice about being in New York tomorrow. I'll be there whether I meet you or not. It's your only choice. You meet me there or not at all."

"Okay," Leeds said reluctantly. "Where?"

Race considered it for a moment. "Central Park. At the Columbus Circle gate near the statue of "The Maine". I'll be there at 1:00 p.m."

"Alright. I'll be there."

"Don't be late. I won't wait!" And with that, Race hung up. He stood for a long moment, staring at the phone. The last thing in the world that he wanted right now was to see Leeds. Race had meant what he said . . . the man was a plague. And if Estella should find out about the meeting . . .

"What the bloody hell does **HE** want???"

Race whirled, automatically dropping into a defensive crouch, ready to lash out at the interloper. Catching sight of the person standing in the doorway, he forced himself to relax and stand upright again.

"I have no idea."

"But that's not going to stop you from meeting him, is it?" Estella demanded angrily. "You swore to me that you were out of that!"

"I am! I've been out for a long time now."

"Then why is he calling you?!"

"I told you. I don't know. I haven't talked to Leeds in over five years."

"And suddenly . . . out of the blue . . . two days before we're supposed to be married again, he calls." Estella spat, advancing on him. "Don't lie to me, Race. I can deal with a lot of things, but I won't be lied to . . . not any more!"

"I'm not lying!" he replied, fighting to keep his voice even.

"Why don't I believe you? Probably because I've heard it all before. You always lied to me about it . . . and**_ him_**." She was standing directly in front of him now, her face flushed and her eyes blazing. For an instant, time fell away and he could almost believe they were standing in their New York apartment again. "If I hadn't caught you talking to him, you wouldn't even have told me he called, would you? **WOULD YOU???**"

Race couldn't meet her eyes. Finally, he replied heavily, "No. No, I probably wouldn't have."

Estella stood there briefly, staring at him. He could see her eyes getting brighter and brighter as they filled with tears. Then, she turned and fled the room. A moment later a door slammed sharply. In the silence that followed, he could hear laughter floating down the hallway from the dining room, followed by the indistinct sound of his daughter's voice. He moved slowly across the room and slumped down into a chair.

_So it begins again,_ he thought. He laid his head back against the chair, the throbbing behind his eyes suddenly almost unbearable. _What am I going to do?_

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


"And you should have been Bryan's face!" Jonny crowed. "I have never seen him so red in my life!" Laughter filled the room as Jonny finished his story.

"His face was almost the color of his hair," Jessie agreed. She turned to Kefira, who was laughing with them, but with a slightly mystified expression. "You see, Bryan is incredibly shy. He's just as happy to have no one notice him. But he's got this incredible voice. How he ended up loose enough to be willing to sing with the group, I have no idea, but the instant he started to sing, everyone else began dropping out and he just kept going. It wasn't until he reached the bit about all the naked girls that he realized that he was singing alone and what the words said."

"Poor Bryan," Benton laughed. "That wasn't very nice, you know."

"But he does have a beautiful voice," Hadji pointed out. "It is a shame he can not overcome his shyness enough to sing more often."

"Well, I would like to hear the song," Kefira replied with a glint of mischief.

"I do not think that is necessary," Rajeev commented dryly. Kefira looked at him with a mock scowl. "At least, not while I am around," he amended, hastily. That sent everyone back into gales of laughter.

"So, son, are all the preparations complete for your Christmas party?" Benton asked.

"Yeah, we distributed the invitations today. We'll decorate on Tuesday and Wednesday of next week. Other than that, I think all that's left to do is the food, and Jessie's in charge of that."

The door to the kitchen opened and Mrs. Evans stuck her head in the door. "I thought I heard you, Jessica. While you were gone this morning, the caterers called about the food for the wedding reception."

Jessie rose hastily. "There isn't a problem, is there? I thought everything was taken care of."

"No, they just had some questions. I talked to them and . . . "

The sound of their voices was cut off as the swinging door into the kitchen closed behind them. Jonny stared at it vacantly, the sight of the Quest's housekeeper brought back his conversation with Matt earlier that day. He really hated this. Jessie had been right. Matt and Bobby had been his and Hadji's best friends since the first day the family had arrived. Was he wrong to cut Bobby off simply because he had decided to date Francesca?

"Jonny?"

The tone of his father's voice finally penetrated his concentration and he brought his attention back to others in the room. "What?" Concern was clear in all of their faces and he could suddenly feel the tension in his shoulders and the frown on his face. He forced himself to relax and smile. "I'm sorry. Was I off in the ozone?"

"What's bothering you, son?" his father asked.

"Oh, nothing," Jonny replied lightly.

Benton held his gaze firmly, not saying a word. It was Hadji who replied quietly. "That is not true. Something has disturbed you. I have noticed it ever since I returned home."

Jonny started to shake his head, but something stopped him. For a long moment, he gazed down at the top of the table silently. Then he sighed and looked up again. "Yeah, well, I guess I don't hide it very well, do I?"

"No," his father said quietly. "So what is it?"

Jonny laughed in a slightly bitter tone. "Francesca. What else?"

"Who is Francesca?" Kefira asked, sitting forward slightly.

When Jonny didn't answer right away, Hadji said, "I told you about her . . . the girl Jonny dated for a while."

Kefira suddenly looked concerned. "The one that dislikes Jessie so much?"

"Yes," Hadji agreed. "But what can Francesca be doing that would upset you this much? She has no power to come between you and Jessie any longer."

Jonny sighed again. "That's not the problem." After a moment, he told his family about the relationship between Bobby Evans and Francesca. "It's a mess. Matt says that things at home are really bad. Bobby's started staying out late and doing stuff his parents have told him he can't do. He's openly defying them, and Matt says he's convinced it's at Francesca's instigation. She wants something again, and she's using Bobby to get it. I just have no idea what. Matt's tried to talk to him, and so have Jessie and I, but he's just not listening."

"You have told him the things she has done?" Hadji asked in concern.

"Yeah," Jonny replied, dispiritedly. "But he's convinced that she's changed. He's squiring her around like a queen and she's just hanging on him."

"I thought he was dating Myron Dawson's granddaughter," Benton commented in surprise.

"He was," Jonny replied bitterly, "but he dumped Marla flat when Francesca fluttered her eyelashes. He's even accused Matt of being jealous when he's tried to talk to him about it."

Benton sighed. "Unfortunately, there isn't much you can do. If he's that determined, you're going to have to let him learn his own lesson." He looked at his son thoughtfully for a moment. Finally, he said, "And you know, son, maybe he's right. Francesca has been through some bad experiences. I imagine she could tell some real horror stories about spending time in an Egyptian jail. That has to change a person."

Even before Benton finished speaking, Jonny was shaking his head. "No, Dad, I don't buy it and I never will. She's poison, and sooner or later, she's going to hurt Bobby really bad."

Benton shook his head sadly. "Then all you can do is wait and be a friend when he needs one."

Jonny leaned back and ran his hand through his hair in an unconscious imitation of Race. Reluctantly, he admitted, "That's another problem."

"You and Bobby are not speaking," Hadji stated without hesitation.

"Oh, we're speaking," Jonny replied in disgust, "but it's not exactly civil. And now Matt's backing off, too. Says he has to side with Bobby because they're brothers."

Jonny's father looked at him steadily. "Are you asking him to choose?"

Jonny shook his head. "No. But Bobby's really pissed because I told him he couldn't bring Francesca to our Christmas party, so he's refusing to come at all. And Matt's afraid that if he comes, Bobby will get angry at him, too." Jonny expression was glum. "I don't want to lose either of them as friends, but I really don't know what to do here."

The room was quiet for a long moment. Finally, Kefira spoke up hesitantly, "Perhaps it is not my place to say anything . . ."

"No, please," Jonny urged her, "I'd like to hear what you think."

"Well, I do not know this Francesca Hamilton, other than what Hadji has told me." Jonny nodded. "What I do understand is business, and, of late, I have also come to understand politics and political maneuvering better than I used to. And what I have discovered is that the enemy that is known and kept under close observation is much less dangerous than the one that is out of sight. Distance makes them much harder to control. It seems to me that if you are certain that this girl is going to cause trouble, you would be better to have her close at hand where you are able to find out what she is attempting to do."

Jonny nodded slowly. "I can see the sense in that."

"You also gain something else," Kefira continued. "You do not alienate your friend, Bobby, or his brother. This allows the one brother who believes the way you do to become your eyes and ears to the situation when the girl is not around you. She does not even have to believe you trust her. If Bobby's brother believes you and will keep you informed, then all that is necessary is that Bobby trusts his brother." She looked up and grinned at Hadji suddenly. "I have begun learning these sorts of lessons recently."

Hadji grinned back at her with a touch of pride, as the others laughed. "Yeah, I'll bet you have," Jonny told her. Then he sobered again, considering her advice. "Thanks, Kefira. I'll definitely think about it."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Race stood in front of the closed door to his suite debating about what to do. It was now close to midnight and a good eight hours since his fight with Estella. Since that time, they had studiously avoided each other. Dinner had been tense, although it seemed no one else had noticed. His stomach roiled as he stood there indecisively. He felt boxed in. He knew Estella's feelings about I-1, and Leeds, in particular. In the time Race had known her, Estella had disliked a fair number of people, but there was no one else that she hated as much as she did Leeds . . . a particularly strange situation when you consider that she had never even met the man. And he knew that if he really wanted to ensure their continued happiness, he should call him right now and tell him to forget it. He didn't want in the middle of his mess, anyway.

And yet . . .

There had been something in the man's voice . . . something he had never heard before. Fear? Yes, that was part of it. Desperation, too. But there was something else . . . something indefinable that set his internal radar to sounding clearly. Leeds' implication was that his current problems involved the Quests . . . the people he had come to regard as his family. That meant that whatever else might suffer, he simply couldn't turn away.

Opening the door, Race stepped inside quietly and surveyed the room. Light came from a large picture that hung on the wall across from the sofa. An engagement gift from him, it was her original, full-sized drawing of the Colombian dig site. He had had it carefully matted and set in the mat were photographs of the various members of the crew going about their daily routine. Everyone looked busy and happy and it reflected the good times on that excavation. The picture took up much of the wall and he had had a light incorporated into the frame so it stood out clearly. He gazed at it for a long time before letting his eyes wander around the room, again. It was neat and orderly, as usual, but that wasn't what he noticed. Rather, he noted how much it had changed in the last two months. Before Estella had come to live with him again, this room had been somewhat sterile. It was simply a private space if he ever needed one. But now, there was an indefinable feeling of personality to it. Subtle changes had turned it into something warm and welcoming. It seemed to exude a sense of tranquility, and he could feel himself responding to its influence. He wondered how much of that was actually the atmosphere, and how much of it was a change in him. He crossed the room and sank slowly into the large sofa. He noticed that there was no light shining from under the bedroom door. So, Estella hadn't waited up for him. He sighed softly, knowing there would be no resolution to this fight tonight.

He thought again about Leeds and the urgency of his words. He could try to explain this to Estella, but would she believe him? She had accused him of lying to her about his status with Leeds and I-1. The truth was, she had the right to be suspicious. He used to lie to her regularly. When it came to his job, Estella had always preferred to know the truth and deal with it rather than turn a blind eye. It had taken him a long time to learn that lesson. But by the time he came to understand this about her, lying had become a simple reflex. What's more, she could always tell when he wasn't telling her the truth, and the misery in her eyes always let him know that she knew. For a long time, he told himself it was to protect her, but that was a lie, too. As things had gone from bad to worse between them, her misery used to give him a sense of power . . . in some sick way, he remembered getting a kick out of hurting her. Looking back on it now, he couldn't believe how twisted he had become. The job had eaten away at him until he could hardly stand it . . . or himself, and he had taken it out on her. She had stayed for almost eight years, but there were limits to her endurance. Eventually, she reached a point where she couldn't take it any longer, and she had ended it. He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, and rested his head in his hands, trying to shut out the memories that came back to him so powerfully . . .

"Please, Race. I can't take this any longer."

"You're my wife!"

"Not for much longer."

"What?"

"I filed for divorce. Jessie and I are leaving."

"You can't!"

"I already have. Please, Race, please . . . just let it go. I . . . I can't go on . . ."

"No! Estella . . . "

"I can't live like t-this anymore. It's t-tearing me apart. Please, Race, I'm begging you. Don't f-f-fight me on this. Please . . ."

"But . . . but, you can't! What about the Church? They'll excommunicate you for this!"

"I know. I've already talk with Father Matthew. He says he understands my situation, but there is nothing he can do. The Church's rules are clear. But it doesn't matter. Not any more . . . I just can't do this any longer."

"But you've always said you never believed in divorce. Your faith was so strong . . ."

The misery and hopelessness in her eyes was like a bottomless well, and he knew then that he was destroying her. Her reply was barely audible. "Please . . ."

" . . . Race . . ."

He shuddered violently, still gripped in the nightmare of his memories. He couldn't lose her again. He couldn't!

"Race," the voice said again, and he jerked upright to find her kneeling in front of him. She gripped his wrists and gazed at him in concern. "Race, what's wrong?" He stared at her wildly for a moment, unsure if she was real or another part of his dream. She was little more than a shape in the dim light, silhouetted against the light of the picture behind her.

"Estella?" he asked hoarsely. Abruptly, he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her to him tightly. "Not again," he whispered raggedly. "I can't. Not again. I'll do anything . . ." He buried his face in her shoulder and clung to her frantically.

Estella was shaken. What the hell? He was shaking uncontrollably and panting like he couldn't breathe. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing his head down so it lay on her chest and stroked his hair gently. Rocking him like child, she made soft, shushing sounds, trying to calm him. Slowly, his breathing evened out and his stranglehold eased. Eventually, she leaned back and looked at him, one palm against his cheek. "What in heaven's name, Race? Are you all right? Has something happened? What's wrong?"

He sighed deeply and, releasing her, he leaned back and laid his head against the back of the sofa. He opened his mouth to say 'nothing', but what came out was, "Reliving old nightmares." _The truth,_ he thought in amazement. _My God, I told her the truth._

She rose from her kneeling position and sat quietly beside him on the sofa. Laying a hand on his leg, she said, "Tell me."

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"What? When?" she asked, confused.

"All those years ago. I never wanted to. I don't know what made me do it."

"Race, what are you talking about?"

He turned his head on the sofa and looked at her. The light was still behind her and he couldn't see her face. "All those years ago . . . when I always lied to you about what I was doing and where I was going. If there's any justice in this world, I'll burn in hell for the torment I put you through."

"You did what you had to do."

"I did what they wanted me to do. There's a difference."

Estella reached out and took his hand gently. "Race, what happened in the past is over. We both agreed to that."

"Yes, but it seems my past just keeps coming back to haunt me," he replied bitterly. "To haunt both of us." He drew his arm back, trying to pull his hand out of her grasp, but Estella refused to release it.

"I owe you an apology, too."

"What for?" he asked, confused.

"For jumping to conclusions. For not allowing you the chance to tell me what was going on. It wasn't fair. I just heard you say his name and I saw red."

"You had the right."

"No, I didn't. Maybe, back then I did, but not now. We agreed we would put the past aside and start over. That means that I have to give you a chance to explain, not just pass judgment."

With a deep sigh, Race reached out and drew her into his lap. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"I have an idea," she replied, smiling. She slid down a little and snuggled against him, laying her head on his shoulder. "So what did Leeds want?" The name still came out sounding like something of a dirty word, but she was trying.

"I don't know, but something was definitely up." Race frowned as he laid his cheek against the top of her head and settled more comfortably into the sofa. "I haven't heard from the man in five years or more. Any contact I've had with the agency has been through Bennett. You remember him?" He could feel her nod.

"I always rather liked him."

"Bennett's a good man," Race agreed. "Deserved his promotion. But Leeds . . . I really don't know much about what goes on in the agency any longer. I've been totally out since about a year after I was assigned to guard Benton."

"What made you leave?"

"A lot of things, I guess. I was disillusioned with the agency . . . had been for a long time, I think. I just couldn't see it. They were assigning me to work with Leeds more and more often. I think they were trying to get me to mentor him the way Corbin did me, but Leeds was too ambitious and too callous. He didn't take the lives of his men seriously enough. And then the incident at Halfaya Pass occurred . . ."

He stopped and Estella felt a tenseness steal over him. "Tell me about it," she urged softly.

He was silent for a long time and Estella wondered if he would reply. Finally, he said, "A sordid little tale . . . like a lot of the stuff we'd been getting. The agency had been tracking a mystery man who was dealing in weapons for quite some time. We got word that he had a covert distribution route set up in northern Africa. The weapons came in through various ports throughout Africa and were shunted northward over land. Supposedly, they came up through Halfaya Pass and down to the sea again, where they were picked up and disbursed to buyers throughout the Middle East and Europe. Leeds and I were sent in to recon the operation. It wasn't a seek and destroy mission . . . it was investigative only . . . confirm the existence of the distribution route, get the lay of the land, and get the information necessary to set up a later mission.

"It didn't take much to confirm the rumors of the distribution network. All we needed to do was scope out the terrain and we should have been out of there. I was mission head; Leeds was my second. But Leeds was a hotdog. He wanted to blow the whole thing wide open then and there. But something felt wrong about the entire deal. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but it stunk like a set up to me. I decided later that it was how easy it was to confirm the rumors that had bothered me. We'd been chasing this guy for years . . . he was like a will-o-the-wisp. But suddenly, here it was, all the information just handed to us. So I decided to follow our original orders and pull out . . . wait for a second operation that had backup and better preparation. Leeds was pissed. He wanted the glory of bringing the guy down, no matter what. So he got himself a team of ten men . . . kids, really . . . and went in on his own."

His body was so tense Estella could feel the low-level tremor of over stretched muscles running through him. His arms felt like steel girders wrapped around her. She was appalled at how strongly this memory still haunted him . . . even after all these years. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and stroked the hair at the nape of his neck gently, trying to send a sense of calm to him. She hated to make him live through it again, but she instinctively knew that he needed to get it out. "Tell me what happened," she urged him softly.

He sighed and continued, "It was a trap. They were waiting for them at the top of the pass. It was wholesale slaughter. At the last minute, I had gotten wind of what Leeds was planning, but not soon enough to stop him. I was about half an hour behind them. By the time I got there, the only one left alive was a 20-year-old kid by the name of Nelson who bled to death in my arms. Their attackers lost only one man . . . the rest were gone without a trace. I was still sitting on the ground with the kid in my arms when Leeds stumbled into the middle of the carnage without a scratch on him. It was all I could do to keep from killing him myself. The only thing that stopped me was that he seemed to be in shock and I couldn't get a straight answer out of him. He just kept repeating 'They were waiting for us.' and 'They knew we were coming.' over and over again. I found out later that he had been bringing up the rear and when the attack hit, he froze. He remained behind, out of sight, which was why he ended up unhurt."

"You know, I think I read something about that in the papers at the time," Estella said, thoughtfully. "But I didn't realize you were involved in it."

"No, they managed to keep our names out of it," Race replied bitterly, "but it caused something of an international incident. The U.N. Secretary General had asked us to go in, but when it blew up, he completely disavowed any knowledge of it. Privately, he was furious. Told Bennett that he had asked us to go in and check on it, not incite a slaughter. It was a mess."

Estella pressed herself against him, trying to convey comfort through the contact. "What happened after you got back to Washington?"

Race shrugged. "There was an investigation. Both of us were suspended pending the outcome. In the end, we were both given written reprimands. Leeds had a promotion in the works that was scrubbed and he went back to doing grunt work. And I was assigned to the Quests for a babysitting detail."

"You never told them the truth about it, either." He didn't reply. "Did you?"

"I told them the truth."

"But not all of it."

Race sighed. "No, not all of it."

"You protected Leeds. Why?"

"Because whatever he did, it was still my responsibility. I was lead on the operation and I knew what he was like. I should have been in better control of him. The fault was mine."

"So you got stuck with an assignment that was a slap in the face for a man of your experience and seniority. You weren't happy about it, I'll bet."

"If they hadn't done it, I would have been dead within a year." It was said flatly, as a statement of fact.

Estella sat up abruptly and looked down at him. Race still couldn't see her face, but the abrupt tension in her body told him the comment had upset her.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding shaken.

He shrugged again. "I was totally disillusioned. I'd seen too much darkness . . . participated in too much of it. I hated the people I was working with, and the one good thing in my life went away when you and Jessie left. My soul was blasted to hell and gone, and I had nothing left to live for. As Nelson died in my arms, I remember thinking that it would have been so much easier if it had been me. Agents don't live long in that state."

Estella slid back down into his arms and clung to him tightly. Slowly, she began to feel the tension drain out of him. "So Bennett assigned you to a babysitting job to give you time to recover."

"Not exactly," Race replied dryly. "It was more like I was given the job as a reprimand and Bennett didn't oppose it because he knew I was too close to the edge. What none of them expected was that I would find a place here and chuck I-1 totally."

Estella laughed, still sounding a bit shaken. "Must have burnt a few people when you did that."

Race echoed her laughter. "Yeah, they didn't like it much, but by that time I really didn't care."

They sat in silence for a while, just holding each other. Finally, in a soft voice, Estella said, "I'm sorry."

His arms tightened. "For what?"

"I never realized how bad things were for you then."

"Not your fault. I never told you."

"No, but still . . ."

"If I hadn't lied to you . . . had tried harder to make our marriage work . . . you **would** have been there for me. The fact that you weren't was my fault, not yours. You always tried . . . tried longer and harder than I ever deserved."

"I think we were both at fault. But you're right about one thing . . . the past doesn't matter any longer. What's important is what the man wants _now_. So tell me what he said."

Without hesitation, Race related the entire telephone conversation. Then he said thoughtfully, "You know, it was more what he _didn't_ say that's got me spooked. The way he sounded. Leeds was rattled and that is seriously out of character for him."

"Maybe he's changed."

Race shook his head. "No, that kind of man doesn't change. It's the worst part about someone like Leeds. He never sees his hotheadedness or ambition as wrong. Unfortunately, it's the people around him that pay the price. And his own self-confidence is what gets him into trouble. If I were to guess, I'd say that something has happened that's put him in a position where he feels powerless, and that's what's got him upset."

"Is it possible this is a trap? Could he be setting you up for some reason?" Estella asked slowly.

Race frowned, considering the possibility. "Possible, I guess, but unlikely. What does he have to gain?"

"Then I think you have to meet him . . . find out what he's got to say."

Race sat up abruptly in surprise. He shifted her around so the light finally fell across her face and looked at her closely. "Are you sure about this, Estella? I will blow it off. I won't risk our relationship over this. You mean too much to me for that."

She smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Finally, sitting back again, she replied, "No, this is something you need to do. If Leeds has some information that affects the safety of our family, then we need to know what it is. But I want to be there to cover your back. I'll stay out of sight, but I don't want you going in there alone."

"I wish you could, but if you want to help, I have another job I need you for."

"Just name it."

"Rajeev has to go back to the airport tomorrow. The meeting with Leeds is set for 1:00 p.m. Without leaving him at the airport way too early, I can't do both. If you want to help, we can both take him to the city and you can escort him to the airport while I make the meeting with Leeds."

"Can't you just fly him into Kennedy, drop him off, and we can both go to meet Leeds?"

Race shook his head. "Not easily. You know what air traffic is like at Kennedy. It's the reason our hangars are at LaGuardia, and even that's bad enough. And the car is at the hangar. I'd have to take him to Kennedy, land, drop him off, and then take off again and land at LaGuardia. It would take too long."

"I don't like it," Estella sighed. "I don't like you going in there with no one to back you up."

"You don't need to worry. It's a very public place, and I really don't think Leeds is setting me up. And I promise you, I'll be very, very careful." He caressed her cheek gently. "I have everything in the world to live for, now. I'm not going to lose it all because of Connor Leeds. I hate to make you go all the way to New York, though. I know you must have a lot of things to do here."

She smiled and shook her head. "Not a problem. I was going to tell you that I needed to go with you anyway. Jessie ended up ordering my gown from a shop in New York because she didn't like anything available here." Estella grimaced. "Seemed nothing was 'just right' in her estimation. At any rate, the dress is ready to be picked up, but I have to go in and try it on to be certain there are no further alterations needed."

"And if there are? The wedding is day after tomorrow. There's going to be no time to alter it again."

"They claim they can do it for me while I wait. Let's just hope they're right."

"Well, I guess that settles it then. We both go to New York tomorrow."

"Fair enough. Look, we had better get to bed. It's going to be a long day, and it's already late." She made to slide off of his lap, but Race stopped her.

"One other thing . . .'

She cocked her head to one side and said, "Yes?'

"I meant what I said. I don't want anything coming between us again."

Estella leaned forward and kissed him deeply. "Never again, my love. Never again." 


	9. Chapter 8 Thursday, December 23

**

Chapter 8

**

  


Thursday, December 23

  


Quest Compound

"You are sure that this is no trouble, Mr. Bannon? I am certain that you have many things you must do, and taking me to New York is not necessary. Surely there is a connection out of the airport we flew into the other day that will get me there."

Race grinned at Rajeev Subramanian and shook his head. "Doesn't matter if there is. I promised Hadji that I would take you there, so that's what I'm going to do." He grinned even wider as Rajeev began to shake his head, and said consolingly, "Furthermore, I have to go to New York, anyway. I have an appointment there this afternoon, and Estella has the final fitting for her wedding gown. So you are not inconveniencing us in any way. I don't want to hear another word about it!"

Rajeev bowed his head and replied, "Very well. Please accept my sincerest thanks for your kindness."

"No problem. And it's Race. We don't stand on formality in this house." Race rose from the dining room table and walked over to the coffeepot sitting on the buffet. "Can I get you a refill?"

"No, thank you. I need to go and finish packing. And I wish to find Kefira and have a few words with her before we leave."

"Well, I don't know about the packing, but you're going to have to wait to talk to Kefira. All four kids took off early this morning."

Rajeev looked surprised. "I did not hear them leave."

"They took the snowmobiles. The garage where we house them is down near the lighthouse, which is on the opposite end of the house from where you are. I think they were planning to show Kefira around a little, and then head into town once the stores opened up to finish up some errands for Jess. I warned them that they needed to be back here by 9:00." Race consulted his watch. "It's about 8:20 now. They should be back within a half hour or so."

"Pour one for me, would you, Race?" Both men looked up as Estella walked in the door. She looked trim and composed in her copper colored jumpsuit. "It's time for my morning dose of caffeine."

_More like, she needs it to wake up this morning,_ Race thought in private amusement. _Only three hours of sleep will do that to you._ He handed her the cup as she walked up, admiring the line of her throat and the soft swell of her breasts. She thanked him pleasantly, but his thoughts must have been obvious, because the gaze in her sleepy, half-lidded eyes smoldered. _There is something to be said for fighting,_ he thought as he felt his own desire flare again. _The making up is always so much fun._

"So what's our agenda for the day?" she asked as she selected a box of cereal from the buffet and poured it into a bowl. She glanced at the assortment of breakfast food set out on the sideboard and added, "This is rather fancy, isn't it? We usually just fend for ourselves in the kitchen."

Race chuckled, settling himself back at the table again. "Mrs. Evans was feeling energized this morning, I guess. She says it's not often we have guests and she just thought she would do things right."

"It truly was not necessary," Rajeev interjected, looking concerned.

Estella laughed. "When I came to live in this house, Rajeev, one of the first things I learned is that you don't argue with Mrs. Evans. How Benton ever coaxed her to come work for him is beyond me, but she is an absolute gem. He is really lucky."

"I bribed her," Benton said, joining the group. "With anything and everything I could think of. And it took a lot of convincing. I actually think it was her nephews that finally talked her into it."

"Who are her nephews?" Estella asked with interest.

Benton looked at her in surprise. "Matt and Bobby, Jonny's two friends. Didn't you realize that?"

"No, I didn't. I'd never made the connection." Estella looked thoughtful for a minute. "She hasn't said a word about the situation with Bobby and Francesca."

"No," Benton said, looking troubled, "she hasn't. I hope the fight between Bobby and Jonny isn't going to cause problems."

"Who is Francesca?" The concern in all of their faces caused Rajeev, who had been in the process of rising from the table, to pause "You have all been talking about her, and my daughter appears to know, but she has not told me anything".

Benton shook his head. "A girl who is apparently living in Rockport these days." He proceeded to give Rajeev a condensed account of their Rockport experiences with Francesca and her father. "I have to say that I agree with Jonny," he concluded. "I'm not very happy that she is here, either."

"Yeah, I know," Race agreed. "But there isn't much we can do about it. After you told me about her being back, I contacted a few people and made some discrete inquiries. Everything she told Jonny checked out. Her release from the Egyptian jail _was_ negotiated by the new U.S. Ambassador, her father is still in jail, the Conners _did_ willingly take her in as a host family, and she _does_ appear to just be living the life of a normal high school student. There is absolutely nothing that says she is here for anything other than what she claims."

"Well, Jessie certainly doesn't buy it," Estella said firmly. She grinned at Race. "She has that same buzz you always got when you sensed something wrong. All her antenna are out and she's practically humming."

Race laughed. "She does have the radar. I've seen it kick in before. And that, more than anything else, is what's making me wary. Jess is seldom wrong when it comes to things like this. She wasn't wrong the first time she met Francesca, and I doubt she's wrong this time, either." He sighed. "I just wish that the girl hadn't decided to involve Bobby Evans. I like that kid and he doesn't deserve this."

"Neither does Marla Dawson," Benton agreed.

"And who is Marla Dawson?" Rajeev asked with interest. It seemed that the intrigue that surrounded this family made Bangalore palace politics look tame. No wonder Hadji was so efficient at dealing with his intractable advisory council!

"Bobby's former girl friend." Benton shook his head. "Of all of the people that I would have thought Francesca could have latched onto, I would never have dreamed she could have gotten to Bobby Evans."

Estella looked at Benton in surprise. "Why not? What's so different about Bobby?"

Benton leaned back, thinking about that question, then looked at Race. "How would you describe the twins, Race? You've known them as long as I have. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do," Race replied, rising to refill his coffee cup again.

"You're going to o/d on caffeine," Estella scolded him. 

He grinned at her as he returned to his chair. "Not anytime soon," he replied. He thought about Benton's question a bit longer and then said, "Bobby and Matt are identical twins . . . and I mean identical. I'm trained to notice minute differences, and it took me quite a while to learn how to tell the two of them apart. And if they don't want you to know which one is which, I don't care how good you are, you won't figure it out. The main difference between them is more one of personality than it is of physical differences."

"Exactly," Benton agreed. "The two of them are incredibly close . . . they pretty much like the same things, do the same things, and excel at most of the same things . . . but it's the attitude they bring to it that's different. Matt is somewhat devil-may-care. He's bright and carefree, somewhat impulsive, looks at everything with a slightly twisted sense of humor, and doesn't get too serious about much of anything."

"He is also the lady's man of the pair," Race said dryly. "He's lucky if he dates the same girl three times in a row . . . and he never lacks for candidates!"

"Sounds familiar," Estella commented with a wicked grin. Race just grinned back at her and Rajeev chuckled, picking up on the joke.

Benton joined in the laughter. "She's got your number, hasn't she?"

"Always did," Race agreed, reaching over and caressing her cheek fleetingly. She smiled back at him contentedly.

"Bobby, on the other hand, is the serious one of the two," Benton continued, returning to the subject. "He tends to look at things from all angles, analyzes situations very carefully, and once he makes a decision about something, he sticks with it. He can be extremely tenacious. It's very rare that he changes his mind about anything. That's what I find so concerning about this entire mess. It's so out of character for him to turn from Marla this way."

"Aren't these two the same age as your son?" Rajeev asked.

"Same age as Jonny, yes."

"I would think, then, that he would be a little young to be that committed to his girlfriend."

"Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you," Benton replied. "But you have to understand, we moved here shortly before Jonny turned eleven years old, and at that time, Bobby and Marla were already a pair. Granted, they were still too young to really understand what that meant, but it didn't change the fact that those two were bonded. From everything I've seen, I thought that bond had only gotten stronger over the years. That's why I'm finding it hard to imagine anything that could have come between them."

"Nothing should have," a quiet voice from behind them said. The four adults at the table turned to see Martha Evans standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She moved quietly over and set a fresh pot of coffee on the buffet table without looking at any of them. Then she turned back and continued in the same quiet voice. "The woman is a demon. She is going to destroy my nephew, and none of us can seem to do anything to stop her."

Estella rose hastily and went to her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, she guided the older woman to the table and made her sit down. "Tell us," Estella urged her softly. "Tell us what's happened. Maybe we can help."

Mrs. Evans shook her head blindly. "His parents don't know what to do any longer. It's like he's possessed or something. He has always been a good boy . . . they both have . . . never a moment's trouble. But now Bobby is just running wild. He's out until all hours, his grades are slipping, he's openly defying his parents, and the other night . . . " Her voice choked up and she stopped.

Benton leaned over and took her hand gently in sympathy.

" . . . the other night he came home drunk . . . maybe even high on something. We don't know. Jim and Donna have no idea what to do any longer." The woman looked up at Benton in desperation. "Please, Dr. Quest, tell us what to do. We're so afraid something bad is going to happen to him."

Benton looked grim and squeezed her hand. "I don't know, Mrs. Evans, but I promise you we'll look into it."

Estella was staring at a spot on the table, frowning in concentration. Race watched her for a second and then said softly, "Stel?"

Her eyes rose and locked with his, and she said slowly, "I've just had a thought . . ."

"What?" Race encouraged her.

"Leeds," she replied.

"What about him?" Race prompted her as Benton and Rajeev looked at the two of them in confusion.

"Something you told me last night. You said Leeds was jumpy and had implied that he was concerned about the security here."

Benton sat forward abruptly, frowning. "So was Bennett. He didn't say as much, but it was really clear that he was seriously disturbed about something."

"And you said that he implied we were being watched." Estella continued, watching Race closely.

"He said, " Race replied slowly, "that we should _hope_ we were being watched . . . that we needed someone watching our backs right now."

"Who is Leeds?" Rajeev asked in concern.

Race looked at him, frowning darkly. "Government man . . . in intelligence. I used to work with him before I joined Quest Enterprises. He called yesterday out of the blue, demanding to see me . . . insisting on a face-to-face meeting, no less . . . refused to say anything over the phone."

"You don't trust him," Benton observed, watching his friend.

"I never have. It doesn't pay . . . people who trust Leeds tend to end up dead. But you want to talk about spooked? Leeds sounds like he's practically jumping out of his skin, and that's seriously not like him."

"And I don't buy into coincidences," Estella added grimly. "I'd take any odds you'd want to offer that two spooked government men and Bobby's involvement with Francesca and change in behavior are all connected in some way." She looked at Race. "When are you supposed to meet Leeds?"

"At 1:00 today."

Estella grabbed his hand fiercely and pleaded, "Call somebody. Or let me come. You have to have someone at your back! You can't walk into this one alone. It stinks!"

"What the hell is going on, Race?" Benton demanded.

"Whoa. Slow down, both of you." Race caught Estella's hand in both of his and smiled. "Don't go off the deep end. I promise . . . I'll be careful. This meeting is set in a very public place and, believe me, I'll check it out carefully before I walk into anything."

"He can still kill you, even if it is a public place," Estella insisted. Race could see unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

"I'll come with you," Benton stated decisively. "Estella's right. If Leeds isn't to be trusted, you can't walk into a meeting with him alone."

"I will go also, " Rajeev said quietly. "The man will be much less likely to try anything if he has several people to deal with rather than a single man. I will call and let Anila know that I may be late getting home."

"Wait a minute . . ." Race began, but Benton cut him off.

"I appreciate your willingness to help, Rajeev, but we really can't allow you to put yourself in danger for us. I'm sure we can handle it."

Rajeev smiled. "It is a small thing, Dr. Quest. After all, if your son is to marry my daughter, then we are all family. And family supports family."

**"Just hold it a second!"** Race said loudly. In the sudden silence, he glared at all of them. "_**None**_ of you are going with me. I have to do this alone. Leeds won't show if I have a crowd with me."

All of them started to protest, but Race silenced them with another glare. "Look, I know my business, and I tell you he won't show if all of you are there. Furthermore," Race looked at Benton sternly, "Leeds has no reason to want me dead. If there is a target here, it's probably you. Leeds turned downright panicky yesterday when I said I was going to New York and leaving you here. And you commented that Bennett said much the same thing when he was here. If that's the case, then it's pure stupidity to deliberately put you into the line of fire. I want you here, and I want the Compound security stepped up." He glanced up, addressing his comments to the air around him. "IRIS, upgrade Compound security to level two. Update the unlimited Compound access list to add Rajeev Subramanian and Kefira Subramanian, and . . ." he paused briefly and then looked apologetically at Mrs. Evans, " . . . remove Bobby and Matt Evans. Notify us of any approach to the Compound perimeter."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. ACCESS FILES UPDATED. SECURITY UPGRADED. STANDING BY." 

"We're going to follow the plan we laid out last night," Race continued, looking at Estella. "You and I will fly Rajeev into the city. You'll pick up the car at our hangar and drive Rajeev to Kennedy so he can catch his outbound flight. From there, you'll go to the dress shop and get your dress.

"Benton, you'll stay here. I want you to start doing some serious research. We'll recruit the kids to help. Something is going on, and I want to know what it is. It's a good bet that whatever Leeds has to tell me, it won't be all he knows. I want to know what it is he's not saying. As soon as I've talked to him, I'll call and give you a better idea of what we're looking at. In the meantime, I'd suggest you start with Francesca Hamilton. Dig and see if you can turn up anything that I didn't find in the first round of inquiries. It won't hurt to check the status and whereabouts of some of our old "friends", either . . . particularly the Zin twins. I don't think any of them are likely to come back to haunt us, but you never know.

"Rajeev, I do appreciate your offer, but the best thing you can do for us now is to go home. If someone _**is**_ watching us, the quickest way to warn them that we're wise to what's going on is to change our plans. Our knowledge that something is up is our single best advantage right now and we want to be sure it stays that way." Race hesitated fractionally. "Hadji will hate me for saying this, but maybe it might be wise if Kefira went with you. I'm not sure life around here is going to be very safe for a while."

Rajeev shook his head. "I appreciate what you are saying, Race, but I can promise you that even if I agreed to do this, my daughter would not leave. She does not run from trouble." He chuckled a bit sourly. "In fact, she tends to run _toward_ it all too often. We can explain it to her, but . . . " He spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

Race sighed, "Alright. We'll leave things the way they are, then. And Mrs. Evans," he finished, looking at her, "I promise you . . . we'll get to the bottom of this. Just tell your brother and his wife to hang in there."

"Thank you," she relied softly. She rose quietly and went back into the kitchen.

"What about when I'm finished at the dress shop?" Estella asked. "How do I meet up with you again?"

Race thought for a moment, then said, "You remember Figaro Pizzeria on West 46th Street?" Estella nodded. "After the meeting with Leeds, I'll catch a cab and meet you there." She looked unhappy, but didn't protest any further. Race smiled at her gently. "I'll be fine. I promise you. I don't want you to worry."

Estella shook her head and smiled a bit ruefully. "You can ask me to follow your directions and I'll do that, but don't even try to tell me not to worry, because it won't work. I'll be worried sick until I meet up with you again. But that's my right and you're just gonna have to live with it."

Race laughed softly and caressed her cheek again quickly. "Fair enough." He looked around the table. "So is everyone clear on what they are to do? Good. Then let's get rolling . . ."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**

Camden, Maine

**

Jessie and Kefira stood on the sidewalk in front of the flower shop in Camden staring into the shop window.

"But Jessie," Kefira said doubtfully, "how are we going to get them home? Even if we could figure out how to carry them on the snowmobiles, wouldn't they freeze before we got back to your house?"

"I don't know," Jessie replied in frustration. "I could just kick myself for letting Jonny talk me into taking the snowmobiles this morning. I should have insisted on the van. I'm running out of time to get everything ready. It would have helped a lot to be able to pick up the flowers and get them home this morning." Jessie looked at her watch and grimaced. "Dad's just gonna have a fit! It's almost 8:45 now, and he wanted to see us before he left." She looked around her. "And I have no clue where Jonny and Hadji are. We are never going to make it home on time."

"Yes, I know. My father is not going to be pleased, either."

Jessie grimaced. "And naturally, Quest has the cell phone so we can't even call and tell them we're gonna be late."

"Perhaps he will think to do it himself," Kefira said hopefully.

"Maybe," Jessie said doubtfully, "but it's more likely Hadji would think of it."

"I really think we are going to have to leave the flowers and come back for them later."

"Yeah. Come on, let's find them and head home." The two girls strode up the snowpacked sidewalk, searching for their companions. In the distance, they could see the large veranda that marked the restaurant near where their snowmobiles were parked, but as far as they could see, there was no sign of the boys. As they passed a gift shop, the door opened and a girl stepped out. Jessie glanced over and then stopped abruptly. "Marla . . ."

"Hi, Jessie." Marla Dawson attempted a smile, but it wasn't very successful. She was a relatively tall girl, but her drooping shoulders and bowed head made her appear shorter than her normal 5'10". Her blonde hair was pulled up under a hat, leaving her face curiously exposed. She was pale and rather gaunt, and her eyes had a bruised look about them.

Jessie licked her lips and began, "Marla, I've heard about . . ."

"I don't think I've met your friend, Jessie." Marla cut her off determinedly. "Hi, I'm Marla Dawson, a friend of Jessie's."

Kefira smiled at the new girl. "I am Kefira Subramanian from Bangalore. I am pleased to meet you. Jessie has spoken of you several times since I arrived."

"You're Hadji's girl, right?"

Kefira looked a bit startled. "Yes . . . yes, I guess I am. But how did you know that?"

Marla shrugged. "Everybody knows it . . . at least, everybody knows that his fiancée from India is coming to visit. It was a pretty safe guess. You have no idea how many hearts got broken around here when word got out about you."

Jessie grimaced. "The small town grapevine strikes again. Hadji's just gonna love it. How much you wanna bet he's gonna blame Jonny for letting the cat out of the bag?"

Marla chuckled involuntarily. "Probably."

"Where did you hear it from?"

Marla shrugged. "I heard it from Becca Harris, and Becca said she got it from Cyndie."

"Oh, great! If Cyndie knows, then the entire _state_ knows." Jessie sighed and looked over at Kefira. "I'm sorry, Kefira. I really don't know how word got out."

The Indian girl just laughed. "I do not have a problem with people knowing about our betrothal . . . even if it is not formal yet. Hadji might, but it does not bother me." Then she got a speculative look on her face. "So he was popular here? Dated a great deal?"

Marla grinned at her, seeming to come a bit more alive. "Oh, yeah. Those girls that weren't chasing Jonny, were after Hadji. And some of them were pretty determined."

Jessie snorted in disgust. "You know as well as I do that Linda Zaveri didn't stand a chance."

"Maybe not, but it sure didn't stop her from trying!"

"I can tell there is a great deal that I am going to have to find out," Kefira said with determination.

The other two girls laughed. "At the Christmas party," Jessie promised her. " We'll get all of the girls together and we'll tell you Hadji stories."

"I will hold you to that promise!"

"Uh, Jessie, about your Christmas party . . ." Marla said hesitantly, looking despondent again. "I really don't think I'm gonna be able to make it."

"What? Why not? You can't back out. We want you there!"

"I just c-c-can't face it," Marla stammered, and suddenly a tear slid down her face.

Jessie and Kefira stepped to either side of the other girl and put their arms around her.

"Marla, you can't give up," Jessie exclaimed. "You and Bobby have been through too much together to just throw it all away."

"Yeah? Tell Bobby that!" Marla retorted with a flash of anger. But then the anger died again, to be replaced with a dejected slump.

"You gotta believe, Marla. Francesca is after something. Bobby is just a means to an end. Sooner or later, she's gonna dump him and he will really need you. You just have to be patient. He'll come back."

Marla reached up and wiped the tears with her hand and sniffed. "I keep telling myself that, Jessie, but you know what my mind keeps saying back to me?" Jessie shook her head. "I keep wondering if, in the end, I should even want him back. I mean, if he's does this to me once, what's the chance he will do it again? And I hurt so much right now that I'm not sure I ever want to open myself up to that again. I keep thinking that if he does get dumped and comes back to me, that I should just turn around and walk away."

Jessie sighed. "I know, Marla. I've been there and it's the pits. But you really can't let it get to you. Furthermore, it's not smart to make a decision like that right now . . . not when you're so upset. If you do, then Francesca really does win."

"After all," Kefira pointed out, "if she deliberately went after him and she is as beautiful and manipulative as I have heard she is, he probably did not stand much chance."

Jessie hesitated briefly. "How did this happen, Marla? She had to have had an opening . . . a weak point . . . to exploit. I know she's good at that . . . she found mine easily enough. I just can't see what she could have found that allowed her to get to him in the first place."

Marla sighed and ran her hand over her eyes again. "We'd been arguing a lot lately, and we'd had a particularly nasty one the afternoon before he ran into her here in Camden. In fact, I was supposed to come with him that day, but he made me so angry I refused to go."

"But you guys don't ever fight!" Jessie protested. Marla shrugged her shoulders. "'What were you fighting about?"

Marla looked at Jessie briefly and then gazed down at the ground again. "You know I suffer from acrophobia, right? That I can't stand heights?" Jessie nodded. "Well, I got left out of just one too many things because of it, and I finally decided to do something about it. So I got Mom and Dad to take me to a therapist. I've been seeing the guy for about six months now. The idea is to acclimate yourself slowly to your fear, increasing your exposure to it until you learn to control it."

"Makes sense," Jessie replied, nodding.

"I wish Bobby thought so," Marla said bitterly. "He thought the whole thing was stupid. He said that if God had made me acrophobic, that I shouldn't worry about it. He claimed that it didn't prevent me from doing anything I really liked to do, so what was the big deal?"

"That is rather narrow minded," Kefira observed.

"To be fair, it wasn't Bobby just being a pain about it. Those sessions were really hard for me. I'd come home sweating and sick and so stressed I could hardly do anything. Bobby hated it. The longer I went, the more vocal he got about it, even when it was obvious that I was starting to get better. And then my doctor decided that it was time for a serious trial. This is a group session that I go to. There's about 12 of us and we all suffer from acrophobia. Our doctor decided to take us up in an airplane. The doctor told me he wasn't sure I was ready, but I was just determined."

"Uh oh," Jessie murmured.

"I knew what Bobby would say, so I didn't tell him. I just went." Marla shook her head. "It was a mistake. He was right . . . I wasn't ready. I was scared witless on the way up, and we'd leveled off and were just cruising around about five minutes later when I totally lost it. It was bad. Dr. Mason ended up coming to our house and sedating me. And once I was conscious again, I was so demoralized that I missed three days of school. When Bobby finally found out about it, he was furious. And when I told him that I intended to keep going, he just exploded and we had a really nasty fight over it."

Jessie looked thoughtful. "Where did this happen? The fight, I mean."

"I don't understand," Marla replied, looking confused.

"Was it at home, at school, where? Was anyone around?"

"Not that I know of," Marla responded. "It happened in the hall right outside of the gym at school . . . down by the girl's locker room. It was after school and everyone seemed to be gone."

Jessie was quiet, thinking hard. Kefira watched her closely, and finally said matter-of-factly, "You do not think they were alone."

"And two days later, Francesca ran into him in Camden?" Jessie asked.

"No," Marla replied, shaking her head. "It was the very next day. Our fight occurred on Friday evening before we left school. I told him then that I didn't want to see him for a while, but he showed up the next morning to take me to Camden with him anyway. He just sorta assumed that I'd be over it by that time. That's when we really got into it. It was pretty nasty and he left really angry. Later that day he ran into Francesca here in Camden."

Jessie looked at Kefira and replied, "No, I don't think they were alone. I think Francesca saw the whole thing and spotted a weak point she could exploit."

"But _why_?" Marla asked desperately. "What does she . . ." She broke off with a gasp, her gaze focusing on something over Jessie's shoulder. "Oh, no . . ." she moaned.

"DON'T MOVE!" Jessie snapped to both of her companions. She looked at Marla sharply. "Francesca?"

"Yes," Marla whispered. "She just came out of the expensive dress shop up the street."

"Has she seen us?"

"No, I-I don't think so. She's not looking this way."

Jessie looked at the girl sharply. "Marla, I can't explain right now, but I need you to do exactly what I tell you. Can you do that?"

"Y-y-yes."

"Good. Is she still looking the other way?" Marla nodded. "Okay, then I want you to go back into this shop and stay out of sight. Either go all the way through and out the back door, or lose yourself in the shop until all of us are gone."

"But . . . but why?" Marla asked, bewildered.

"I don't want her seeing us together. It's important that she thinks that her old 'divide and conquer' tactic is still working. Go on. I promise you, I'll call and explain what's going on as soon as I can."

Marla nodded and, with another quick glance up the street, ducked back into the shop and disappeared. Jessie and Kefira stood there silently for a minute before Jessie turned casually as if to say something to Kefira. The Indian girl did not miss the lightning-quick glance that Jessie shot up the street.

"She's turning," Jessie said quietly. "She'll see us any minute."

Kefira tilted her head to one side as though studying an item in the window of the store. She pointed to it as though directing Jessie's attention to it, and then said in a low voice, "Is she coming in this direction?"

That lightning fast look again. "Yes."

"Which one is she?"

"Small, dark hair, red coat." Jessie shook her head and pointed at a different item in the window display. Kefira turned, apparently to get a closer look, and shot a quick glance up the street. "I see her," she replied softly. "She has definitely spotted us and she is coming this way."

"You want to vacate?" Jessie questioned her.

"No," Kefira replied with conviction. "I want to meet her. It is a foolhardy man who does not learn to know his enemies."

Jessie laughed out loud just as Francesca got within earshot. "I swear, you sound just like Hadji!"

Kefira laughed easily. "It rubs off."

"Hello, Jessie." The saccharine sweet voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Jessie glanced over negligently. "Francesca."

"I'm surprised to see you here."

Jessie raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Really? Why is that?"

"Well, I heard that your parents are getting married tomorrow, and I figured you'd be all tied up with that. Such a shame they couldn't have done it sooner . . ."

Jessie feigned surprise, refusing to rise to the implied insult on her parentage. "Sooner? But they didn't want to do it any sooner. They wanted a Christmas Eve wedding. It has actually worked out quite well. And as for being busy prepping for it? Good heavens no, everything is already set. I've just been showing Kefira around."

Francesca turned and looked the other girl up and down. "Oh, yes. This is Hadji's mail-order bride, right?"

"It was not necessary to do it by mail, actually," Kefira responded calmly, completely unruffled by the other girl's venom. "Kefira Subramanian." She extended her hand politely. "And you are?"

The girl took the proffered hand reluctantly. "Francesca Hamilton. I'm sure Jonny has mentioned me."

Kefira frowned thoughtfully. "Not that I can recall. But then, I've met so many new people since I arrived . . ." She shrugged negligently, implying that Francesca was just one of many. Both girls saw Francesca flush slightly.

Abruptly, Francesca turned to Jessie with a somewhat belligerent look and said, "Bobby tells me that Jonny has refused to invite us to your Christmas party."

Jessie shrugged. "I don't know that any final decision has been made, but I do know he's reluctant to have you around. I mean, all things considered, can you blame him?"

"Why don't you invite me?" Francesca challenged her.

Jessie laughed sourly. "You mean, go behind Jonny's back? You'd love that . . . start a pretty fight, now wouldn't it? No, that's your style, Francesca, not mine. If the two of you get invited, it will be because Jonny changed his mind, not because I went around him."

Francesca narrowed her eyes, staring at the redhead suspiciously. "Are you saying you don't mind if I'm there?"

"No skin off of my nose, one way or the other," Jessie replied negligently. "I told you at the Christmas Festival . . . you're no threat to me. I'm not even angry over the things you did to me any longer. What would be the point? In the long run, we won and you lost. It's that simple."

_"It's **not** over!"_ Francesca hissed in fury. "You may have won one battle, but not the war. I don't lose to the likes of you!"

Jessie's hold on her temper finally snapped, and turning abruptly, she stepped forward and got right in the other girl's face. "Then bring it on," she replied in a soft, menacing voice. "I'm getting sick of your veiled threats and the way you use innocent people. We both know just exactly what you are, Francesca . . . a petty, evil, vindictive little slut who doesn't care who she hurts to get what she wants. Well, I'll tell you, I don't mind a good fight, and now that I know how low you'll sink, I understand the rules of the game. I'm ready whenever you are."

Kefira stood back, watching the two of them warily and not making a sound. Both girls were so furious, a wrong word could trip this confrontation over into violence. The silence lengthened until, finally, Francesca took a deep breath and stepped back. 

"Not yet," she replied with a malignant twist to her lips. "The day's coming, Bannon. We're going to finish what we started in Cairo, I promise you! And this time, the outcome will be completely different." Francesca spun and strode away, leaving Jessie and Kefira standing alone on the street.

For a long moment, Jessie stood there rigidly, her fists clenched and her eyes blazing. Slowly, she forced her hands to relax and took a deep, steadying breath. "Well," she said finally, "that was fun." A sudden gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and Kefira could see her hand shake slightly as she reached up to tuck it behind her ears.

"She threatened you," Kefira stated calmly.

Jessie looked at her quickly. "Yeah, she did, more or less." Then she laughed a little ruefully. "Not that I didn't goad her to it. Damn. I hate it when I let her get to me like that!"

"So what are we going to do about it?"

"Not much we can do, really," Jessie replied, rapidly calming down. "If we report it to the authorities, they'll just take it as a cat fight and ignore it."

"Cat fight?" Kefira asked in confusion.

Jessie laughed, her good humor returning suddenly. "Yeah. It's slang . . . means a petty fight between two people. It's usually used to describe petty spats between women."

The two girls turned and began moving down the street slowly, as Kefira replied, "It did not look very petty to me. She looked like a cobra poised to strike. For a moment, I thought she was going to hit you."

"Yeah, I know. And you want to know what the sorry part of it is?"

"What?"

"I was really hoping she'd try it."

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Quest Compound**

Forty-five minutes later, the entire Quest family, along with the Subramanian's, held a council of war in the Compound family room. Everyone looked grim, and Jonny moved restlessly, unable to sit still.

" . . . and that's what happened," Jessie finished. "There was no facade this time . . . no attempt to hide behind the mask. She's definitely up to something, I just don't know what."

"I should have been there," Jonny snarled in frustrated anger.

Jessie flicked a quick glance his way. "I'm glad you weren't."

Estella leaned forward and commented thoughtfully, "Marla's story sheds an interesting light on things, too."

Race quirked an eyebrow at her and asked, "How so?"

"Well, look at it. Marla said she'd been dealing with her problem for close to six months, right?" Jessie and Kefira nodded. "And she also said that she and Bobby had been arguing about it almost since the beginning. That means Francesca didn't set this situation up. All she did was capitalize on it."

"Yes. So?"

"So why Bobby Evans? With her skills at manipulating people, she didn't need to go after him. There was a wealth of other boys in the school that were unattached who she probably could have turned in a single day if all she was looking for was an escort. Why go to the trouble to exploit the situation between Bobby and Marla? Even if Bobby really was furious over his fight with Marla, I don't think the disenchantment would have lasted once he calmed down. Not if Benton is right in his reading of Bobby's personality."

Benton looked at Estella thoughtfully, picking up on her idea. "You think that once she knew about the rift, she played it. That for some reason, it was worth the time and effort it took her to drive the wedge between Bobby and Marla and insert herself in Marla place."

"Yes," Estella said emphatically. "I think that's it exactly." She looked around the room at the men of the Quest family. "You've said all along that she wants something. And it's pretty obvious now that she thinks that Bobby Evans can get it for her. So the question becomes, what does Bobby have that Francesca thinks is of value?"

Jonny stopped his pacing long enough to say shortly, "Nothing. That's the problem."

"Sit down, Jonny," Benton said to his son. "Pacing the room like a caged tiger is not going to help matters. You need to calm down and think clearly."

"This is getting out of hand," Jonny replied hotly. "It was one thing when she was just being irritating, but now she's threatened Jessie. Cairo is _NOT_ going to happen again! I'm going to put a stop to it here and now . . ."

All of the adults in the room sat up abruptly, looking alarmed. Benton started to rise, but before he had the chance, Jessie was up and standing face to face with Jonny.

"You will do no such thing," she snapped. "For once in your life, you are going to sit back and control that impulsiveness of yours. This is **my** fight . . . it always has been. It just took me a while to learn how she played the game. Well, now I know, and I will be the one to deal with her this time . . . not you." 

"I'm not going to let you do that!" Jonny exclaimed angrily. "She's capable of anything. And you heard her . . . she threatened you . . . she wants you dead!"

"Yeah. So?" she demanded sarcastically. "What's so new about that? Sounds like the same old litany to me!"

"She did a pretty damned good job in Cairo!"

"I am getting so _**SICK**_ of hearing about Cairo," Jessie snarled. "Okay, so she got the better of me then. I was blindsided. You think it's going to be that easy a second time? I don't think so! Wanting me dead and getting me that way are two completely different things."

"No!" Jonny shouted furiously. "I want . . ."

"I don't give a shit what you want!" Jessie screamed in fury. "_**I**_ want you to let me deal with this!"

"What the hell do you expect of me?" Jonny yelled at her. "To sit back and watch her kill you?"

"No, I expect for you to have enough respect for my abilities that you don't go off like a bottle rocket on the 4th of July!" she screamed back. "I am capable of looking after myself, you know!"

Standing abruptly, Race uttered a particularly rude word and strode toward the picture window, saying, "Here we go again! When you two are finished, why don't you let the rest of us know so we can get something productive accomplished before we have to leave!"

Jonny and Jessie stood face-to-face, glaring at each other furiously.

"I have to apologize for their behavior, Rajeev," Benton said into the silence. "I'm afraid they both have tempers and when they get started . . ." he broke off and shook his head.

"So I see," Rajeev replied collectedly.

Hadji rose and went to stand beside the pair. He rested a hand on each of their shoulders and said softly, "None of us can afford to fight this battle alone. To succeed, we must act as a team. Please, both of you, come sit down and let us discuss this calmly."

Neither one of them said anything for a long moment. Then, slowly and with difficulty, Jonny said, "I . . . can't . . . sit back . . . and . . . watch her . . . kill . . . you. I . . . did that . . . once. I can't . . . take it . . . again." And then he reached out and pulled her into his arms, clinging to her tightly. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I can't."

Jessie wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. "I know. Hadji's right. No one can do this alone. It's going to take all of us." She pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. "Promise me . . . no one-man vendettas. Anything we do, we plan and execute as a team. Promise me . . . please."

Slowly, he nodded. "Alright. No one-man vendettas. You have my word. But I want the same from you . . . you don't go up against her alone, because you know when it comes right down to it, she won't come at you one-on-one."

Jessie smiled and reached up to touch his face. "I know. You've got a deal," she agreed and then pulled his head down and kissed him.

"Oh, alright . . . enough, already," Race said after a minute.

Jessie giggled as they broke the kiss and the two of them moved toward a nearby chair. Jonny settled into it comfortably, pulling Jessie down into his lap, and asked, "So what's our next move?"

Race looked at his watch. "We have _got_ to leave or Rajeev will miss his plane and I'll miss the meeting with Leeds. I think that, for now, we'll follow the plan we discussed this morning and see what my meeting this afternoon brings." Race looked at the four young people. "You know what I want you to do, right?" They all nodded. "In the mean time, I think the best bet is for everyone to stick close to the Compound until Estella and I get back."

Jessie shook her head. "I can't, Dad. I've still got the last of the arrangements for the wedding to complete. It should only take about two or three hours, but I can't put it off. Not with the wedding scheduled for tomorrow. But Kefira and I could easily take care of it, while Jonny and Hadji work with Dr. Quest on the research."

Jonny shook his head. "That's not a good idea."

"And we still haven't given any thought to what Francesca is after," Estella added.

"She wants Jessie dead," Jonny said flatly. "That's what she's after."

Kefira, who had been quiet throughout the preceding discussions, shook her head and said quietly, "No, I do not think so."

Everyone turned to look at her in surprise. Rajeev cocked one eyebrow and said, "What do you mean, daughter?"

Kefira thought carefully before saying, "During the confrontation between Jessie and Francesca, I just stood back and watched. I was afraid that if I tried to interfere, it would be enough to push the situation over into physical violence." She saw Jessie nod. "So I was in a position to watch the scenario as it played out and I am convinced that the meeting was completely unintended. She was not on that street because she was watching for us."

"You know, I think you're right, Kefira," Jessie agreed thoughtfully. "I think that if she had been watching us, she would have said something about Marla."

Kefira nodded. "And you said the façade was not there. That is not completely true. When she first came up, she was being . . . " she trailed off, searching for a word.

". . . catty . . . " Jessie supplied readily, and grinned at her.

The Indian girl grinned back. "Related to cat fight? All right. She was being catty. The pretense of being pleasant was there, but it had an undercurrent to it that was _not_ pleasant. But it changed very abruptly when you told her you did not care if she came to the Christmas party. Then she became angry."

"She also didn't like it a bit when you said that you couldn't remember Jonny mentioning her."

"You were dismissing her," Estella commented. "She was unimportant."

"Yes, I think that was it," Kefira agreed. "It made her angry, but not to the edge of violence. I think that explosion was an accident."

"You're right," Jessie replied ruefully. "I precipitated that when I lost my temper."

Kefira looked directly at Jonny. "So I do not think that killing Jessie is her sole purpose. She _wants_ to be invited to the Christmas party . . . very badly, by all indications." Her gaze traveled around the room, resting on the inhabitants one at a time. "I think _that_ is the key . . . it is what she wants with Bobby Evans . . . and why no one else would do. Bobby can get her in _**here**_." She pointed down at the floor. "For some reason, she wants access to this place, and she recognizes that only a very few people can come and go here at will. Am I correct that Matt and Bobby Evans have that kind of access?"

Benton nodded. "Up until this morning, yes, they did. No one would have thought a thing about either of them being here."

"And it's a familiar tactic," Jonny added thoughtfully. "It's the same one she used on me. She played me because she wanted access to the Compound, and the minute she got it, she and her dad struck."

"But why Bobby?" Estella protested. "Why not Matt? He didn't have a girlfriend to get rid of, and a lady's man of his sort would have latched onto Francesca without a second thought." She glanced at Race. "No offense intended." He just grinned.

"No, I don't think so," Benton replied slowly. "Yes, Matt dates around a lot. But he's got a streak of the cynic in him and that tends to make him distrustful of people." Benton looked at his two sons. "Am I wrong about that?"

Jonny and Hadji exchanged a look, and Hadji replied, "No, Father, you are not wrong."

"Matt is a lot different from Bobby," Jonny agreed. "You wouldn't think so if you didn't know them well, but it's true. Where Bobby accepts that sometimes life will deal you a blow that makes you hurt, Matt is really afraid of that. He shields himself with that carefree, cynical attitude and he keeps people at a distance so he doesn't come to care about them too much. I really think that the person who is suffering the most from this whole mess is actually Matt. He can shield himself against the pain of acquaintances . . . he can even do it to some extent with friends . . . but he has no defenses for conflict within his own family."

"You should have seen him the other day in school," Jessie said with a stricken look. "He looked like he was dying from the inside out."

"And it's only going to get worse for him as time goes on," Jonny continued, "because once Francesca dumps Bobby . . . and she will, you can bet on it . . . all the pain in store for Bobby will end up being absorbed by Matt as well. As for Matt and Francesca as a couple . . . I don't think that he would ever have become involved with her. At least, not enough to bring her here. He wouldn't have trusted her that far."

"It is also possible that whatever she is after is not something she can just walk in and take," Hadji added. "If she was not under an immediate time constraint, I can see her moving slowly and working her target to get what she wants."

"So I believe the question then would be, what do you have here that she could want so badly?" Rajeev said.

"I'm betting that part of that answer is in New York with Connor Leeds," Race said decisively. "And that's where we need to go . . . right now. Jessica, if you are going to leave the Compound, you do NOT go alone. Am I clear?"

"Absolutely. Kefira and I will go together. We need to go in for her final fitting and to pick up all of our dresses anyway." Jonny started to protest, but Jessie covered his mouth with her fingers. "No. You and Hadji need to stay here and work with Dr. Quest on the research. Kefira and I _have_ to go . . . you don't. I promise you . . . no more confrontations with Francesca today. If I see her, I'll run in the opposite direction. Okay?"

Jonny sighed. "Oh, all right."

Race nodded. "Good. Then let's move it, people. Now!" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Enroute to New York City**

A soft tapping on the cockpit door of the Quest Lear jet caused Race to turn.

"Come on in," he said in a slightly raised voice.

The door opened and Rajeev stuck his head in. "May I join you? Estella said she did not think you would mind."

"Not at all. Pull up a co-pilot's seat. I'd be happy for the company."

Rajeev settled himself comfortably and looked around the cockpit. "A beautiful aircraft," he commented.

"I like it. It seats 12, which is more than enough for our purposes. It handles transatlantic flights without a problem, and has no trouble landing on the runways we have at the Compound."

"You fly often, then."

Race nodded. "Quite a bit. Handling our own transport rather than relying on the commercial services cuts our travel time dramatically, which is pretty important when you consider the strange places we go to. Not to mention that a lot of the places aren't accessible by commercial airline!"

Rajeev laughed. "Well, I hope you enjoy piloting. I would think it would get a bit lonely up here."

"I do enjoy it, actually. Always have. And as for lonely, I don't usually have the opportunity. When the entire family flies, Benton almost always rides shotgun. He's gotten to be a pretty good pilot in his own right. And more and more often recently, I'm being relegated to the role of passenger." Rajeev gave him a questioning look and Race chuckled. "All three kids can fly and are more than competent. Jess is a truly outstanding pilot; there isn't much she can't handle. She's even flown military fighter jets once or twice." The pride in his voice was clear.

"A truly remarkable young lady. I am grateful that she seems to have taken a liking to my daughter. I believe that Kefira can use a friend."

Race glanced over at Rajeev. The man looked troubled. "Problem?"

Rajeev sighed and glanced at Race, then shook his head. "I do not know if it is her problem or mine. Kefira has always been . . . different . . . from all of the other children, and as a result she never had a great many friends. She always preferred going with me to the mines to playing with other children. There are also times when I just do not quite know how to deal with her."

Race grinned. "I know that feeling! Is Kefira your only child? I don't remember Hadji saying."

"No, we have five. Two boys and three girls. Sumant and Daria are older than Kefira, and Maia and Srinivasan are younger."

"All at home?"

"No. Sumant is married and lives in Bangalore City. He has a government position as a wildlife biologist. Daria is still at home, but not for much longer. She is to be married this June. And that leaves Maia and the baby."

Race raised an eyebrow in surprise. "How old is Sumant?"

"Twenty-four."

"And the baby?"

"Srinivasan is five."

Race grinned. "Started over, did you?"

Rajeev laughed. "I will admit it was rather unexpected. Maia was surprise enough. She is six years younger than Kefira. But when Srinivasan came along seven years later, Anila was a bit . . . disconcerted."

"I'll bet," Race replied. He was quiet for a while. Finally, he said, "Estella and I are hoping to have another child." He laughed with a tinge of embarrassment. "Talk about starting over!"

"What does your daughter think of that idea?"

"To be truthful, I don't really know. We haven't discussed it with her. I'm sure that if she has an opinion, we'll hear about it, though."

"Yes, I suspect you will," Rajeev said with a grin. "She has a temper, that one."

Race gazed heavenward. "You have _**no**_ idea! She's stubborn, too. Gets it from her mother."

"Life must be lively with two people with such tempers paired up. Do they fight like that often?"

"Not really. Actually, Jonny doesn't have that much of a temper. It's just that Jess means so much to him and he kind of loses it when he thinks she's getting in over her head." Race looked thoughtful. "You know, it's kind of funny. I came to the Quests when Jonny was six and Hadji joined us a year or so later. It was about three years later, that Jessie began to spend time with us, as well. My original job was largely to care for the two boys while Benton worked on his research projects, so in many ways I raised both of them." A trace of sadness settled on his face. "For a long time, I was more of a parent to Benton's two boys than I was to my own daughter. Anyway, personality-wise, Hadji is very much Benton's son. They share the same interests and values, and neither is happier than when they are immersed in some convoluted project of one kind or another. Jonny, on the other hand, is a whole lot more like me. He's an adventure junkie . . . loves anything with a motor in it and will race them all. He'll try anything at least once and loves the stuff that gives him an adrenaline rush . . . parasailing, sky diving, hang gliding, rock climbing . . . you name it. He's also very competitive."

"And your daughter? Who does she take after?"

Race chuckled. "Depends on what you're talking about. Estella's the one with the temper. She used to get mad and start yelling at me in Spanish so thick and fast, I had no clue what she was saying. She's also highly intelligent, and has strength of character I've rarely seen. All of those things I see in my daughter. But she's also an adrenaline junkie and extremely competitive, both of which she gets from me. In some ways, she and Jonny are so much alike it's almost scary. When they were growing up, the two of them used to drive Benton and I to distraction because they were forever competing with each other. I swear they could turn _anything_ into a competition. We both worried that sooner or later one of them was going to get seriously hurt, but they never did . . . largely because of Hadji, I think. He was the one moderating influence that both of them would listen to. And when they wouldn't listen, he simply went along to bail them out when they got into trouble!"

"I notice that no one says anything about Mrs. Quest," Rajeev commented slowly.

Race sighed. "It was Dr. Quest, actually, although she didn't usually use the title. No, no one talks about Rachel much. Even after all these years, Benton still grieves for her." Race glanced over at Rajeev and saw the question he was too polite to ask. He sighed again. "Rachel was killed when Jonny six years old. It was the main reason I was brought in. She was the light of Benton's life and when she died, it all but killed him."

"I am so sorry. Did you know her well?" 

"No, not well. I had met her twice, both times on short-term assignments as security for government functions. She was a very special person . . . bright, fun-loving . . . she almost sparkled, she was so full of life. And beautiful . . . the kind of timeless beauty that never seems to change. She'd literally turn heads when she walked in the door. Look at Jonny and you'll get the idea. The resemblance between them is striking. Her death was a tragedy." Race shook his head. "I truly believe it's the reason Francesca is such a sore spot for Jonny. That boy has such depth of feeling for the people he cares about. That he gets from his mother. Her death left a lasting mark. Then, the first woman that he cared about that deeply again, was almost taken away under violent circumstances, much the way he lost his mother. The business in Cairo really threw him into a tailspin."

"That has been mentioned several times. Will you tell me about it?"

Race stared out the window sightlessly. Suddenly, Rajeev saw him jump slightly, and watched as his attention snapped back to the plane. "Acknowledged LaGuardia Tower," he said into his headset. "Correcting to 274. Standing by for further instructions." He glanced over to Rajeev. "I was afraid of this. They're stacked up and we've been put in a holding pattern."

"Is the delay going to cause a problem?"

"Shouldn't. I anticipated it. Even starting later than we'd planned, we've still got plenty of time. We should be on the ground by no later than 11:30. That gives Estella a good two and a half hours to get you to Kennedy." He grinned. "And I'll be taking a cab to Central Park. Knowing the cab drivers in this city, I should be early!" Rajeev laughed. But then Race sobered again. "But you asked about Cairo. That was a nasty business." Race told him briefly about the events of two years before. "And it all happened right at the time when the two of them were beginning to wake up to the fact that the feelings they had for each other were a lot stronger than just friendship. Jonny blamed himself for everything that happened because he was the one who was duped by Francesca. He was incredibly angry."

"I would say that he still is."

"Yes, I'm afraid you're right. He's never been able to let it go. And having Francesca back in Rockport has really aggravated the situation."

"I do trust that if I, or my family, may be of any service at all in this situation, that you will not hesitate to ask."

Race glanced over and smiled gratefully. "I appreciate that, Rajeev. I have to say, I think you've done more than enough, already, just by bringing Kefira here. She isn't the only one that can use a friend. Our life style tends to make it difficult to develop really close relationships, and it's been a long time since I've seen Jessie click with someone the way she seems to have done with Kefira. And there's Hadji. He cares for her a great deal and he has missed her since returning home."

"He is not alone. Kefira was extremely restless after he left for America. I think the only thing that kept her from driving her mother mad was that I began taking her to the mines with me. I kept her too busy to become too distracted." It was Rajeev's turn to sound proud. "She knew every mine . . . every workman . . . even the ones I had never allowed her to visit. She completed every task I gave her and asked for more. But . . . " and at that he frowned and stopped.

"But what?" Race prompted him.

"But she is my little girl, and all of a sudden she has seemed to grow up right before my eyes."

"They do that, don't they?" Both men sounded a bit melancholy.

"For some reason, it did not seem as difficult with Sumant. Or even Daria. But Kefira has proved to be much harder."

"Jess is my baby . . . my only child."

The silence between the two of them stretched out. Finally, Race sighed. "But there's not much we can do about it, I guess. And Jonny and Hadji are good young men. They will take care of our little girls." Rajeev nodded silently in agreement. Suddenly, Race straightened in his chair and said crisply, "Read that, LaGuardia Tower. We are cleared for approach." Race glanced over. "Well, here we go . . ." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**New York City**

Race Bannon leaned nonchalantly against the wall of the Helmsley Park Lane Hotel on Central Park South and scanned the street idly. To all outward appearances, he was simply enjoying the beautiful winter landscape across the street. In the brilliant sunshine, the park looked festive, and the sound of laughter could be heard in the clear air. In truth, he was checking out his surroundings carefully. Across the street and up the block, the statues of Columbus Circle stood out clearly against the cityscape. Most of the snow had been cleared from the plaza, and the area was bustling with activity. Race scanned his surroundings again, but saw no sign of anything remotely suspicious. Satisfied, he checked his watch . . . 12:55 . . . time to go.

Reaching into the pocket of his parka, he pulled out a dark blue stocking cap and seated it carefully over his distinctive white hair. No point in making himself anymore of a discernable target than necessary. Thrusting his shoulders away from the wall, he strode casually up the street and joined the crowd of tourists at the crosswalk. By the time the light changed and the crowd moved en masse across the intersection and into Columbus Circle, he had lost himself in the middle of the throng. He moved fluidly, every sense alert and watchful. Moving past the statue of The Maine, which marked the entrance to the park, he joined a nearby crowd of tourists who were being directed toward the large monument of Columbus in the center of the Circle. He drifted with the crowd, listening inattentively to the guide as he scanned for any sign of Leeds.

"Before you is the status of Christopher Columbus, from which this plaza gets its name. Built with donations from Italian Americans from this city, it honors Columbus for his daring and faith in the face of insurmountable odds. Note the beautiful carving on the column . . . "

Race's restless eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of the man he was here to meet. Nothing. In the crisp, cold air Race heard the clear notes of chimes from a nearby church bell tower. It played a simple, sweet melody that was followed by the tolling of the hour . . . 1:00. 

"The statue behind you, which marks the entrance to the park, was erected in honor of the 260 men who died aboard the American battleship, The Maine, in 1868." Race turned with the rest of the crowd and looked back toward the main gate of the park. He noted that the light had changed and a crowd of people was again crossing the street. Abruptly, he stiffened. Near the front of the crowd he spotted a face he knew. Raven black hair, restless blue eyes, fluid movements. Leeds.

Race drifted toward the edge of the crowd that surrounded him, observing the other man closely. He hadn't changed much over the intervening five years. A little older, maybe, but the sense of tightly controlled presence was still evident, even from this distance. Race watched as Leeds turned and searched the crowd milling at the gate. Race did a quick survey of the area again. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at him. He scanned the rooftops surrounding the area carefully, mindful of Estella's comment from earlier that morning. Nothing. Focusing his attention on Leeds again, Race carefully stepped out of crowd and moved a few steps into the open. Leeds head turned sharply, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, and the two men stared at each other for a long moment. Then Leeds raised a casual hand in greeting, as though unexpectedly catching sight of a long lost friend, and moved toward him.

"Race," he called in a pleasant, cheerful voice, "what a surprise! It's been ages. How have you been?" Leeds reached him and Race turned naturally and matched his pace as the two men drifted further away from the clumps of people milling around the plaza.

"Very well, thank you. And you? What brings you to New York?"

Leeds laughed easily and replied, "Oh, business, as usual." They reached the edge of the plaza and stopped near a vacant bench. Both glanced around, but there was no one near them. Race smiled cordially and said in a low, hard tone, "Alright, Leeds, I'm here. Now what the hell do you want?"

Leeds' eyes darted restlessly, continuously scanning his surroundings. "There's something big going on, Bannon . . . something serious. And whether you know it or not, you're square in the middle of it."

Race's eyes narrowed sharply, although the false smile never left his face. "What kind of 'something', Leeds? You're going to have to be more specific than that. And how is it that I ended up in the middle of it?"

Leeds shifted slightly and the brilliant sunshine caught him full in the eyes. He squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand, as he replied, "Not you. You're only in the middle of it because of who you work for. The man in danger is Quest. He's got knowledge that someone out there wants very badly and who is prepared to go to any lengths to get."

"Who?"

The dark haired man shifted uneasily and finally said, "I'm not at liberty to say."

"Then what does he want?"

"I can't tell you that, either."

Race swore sharply and turned away from his companion. "This is a load of crap. I'm out of here."

"No! Wait! You have to hear me out."

"Hear you out?" Race spat, the pleasant pretense forgotten. "What for? You aren't telling me anything. Hell, do you think I'm a novice, Leeds? I already _know_ something is going on."

"What?! What do you know?" the other man demanded.

"I know that the government is jumping out of its skin . . . enough so that Admiral Bennett got sent to Benton Quest on a fishing expedition. I know there's a government man planted in Rockport doing surveillance on the Compound . . . " Race smiled tightly at Leeds' involuntary start. "Benton and the kids don't know, but I spotted him almost as soon as I got home. And I know that it must have eaten a hole in your gut to have to call me after all these years. So are we going to play ring-around-the-rosy, or are you going to tell me why they sent you here?"

A couple of teenagers walked by just then and gave the two men a strange look. Leeds swore softly under his breath and grabbed Race's arm, leading him toward one of the pedestrian footpaths. Reluctantly, Race followed.

"They don't know I'm here. We've been expressly forbidden to talk to you about this or let Quest know what's going on."

"Forbidden by whom?"

"Someone high up in the government."

"Who?"

Leeds hesitated again and then sighed. "Niemeyer."

"The White House Chief of Staff?"

"Yes."

"Why? And since when does he have the power to make that kind of decision?"

"Since the president gave him that kind of power," Leeds said sourly. "The whole set up stinks right now. Niemeyer doesn't trust Quest. Thinks he's too powerful and too far out of the government's sphere of influence to be safe." The man hesitated briefly, then plunged on again. "We're being pressured to set Quest up as a target to draw our enemies out into the open."

Race swore softly to himself. No, intelligence work hadn't changed since he'd gotten out of it. It was still a filthy business where using anyone or anything to accomplish the end objective was considered fair.

"Who's the quarry?"

"A man by the name of Baxter . . . Richard Elias Baxter."

"Head of Elias International," Race said after a moment of thought. "Fingers into a little of everything, multi-national, reclusive . . . that the one?"

"That's him."

"What's he done?"

The two men walked leisurely along the footpath and Leeds was quiet for a long moment, allowing a group of pedestrians to pass them. Finally, with great reluctance, he replied, "You remember the Halfaya Pass incident?"

Race's mouth twisted bitterly. "I'm not likely to forget it."

"The head of the outfit we were trying to break up was Baxter. After the incident in Africa, he went to ground. I've been working this constantly ever since, trying to find a way to bring the bastard down for what he did that night."

Race stopped dead and, reaching out, he grabbed Leeds and jerked him to a halt, forcing the man to face him. "Let's get this straight, once and for all, Leeds. The fiasco in Africa was _your_ doing . . . no one else's. Your hotdog tactics and lust for glory cost the lives of ten good men that night. They were kids . . . 18, 19 and 20 year olds . . . some of them fresh out of boot camp and barely away from their mothers for the first time. And you went outside of protocol to launch a spur-of-the-moment, poorly planned operation with absolutely no back up that got every one of them slaughtered just so your resume could say that you had brought down a bigtime, international gun runner. Well, Leeds, it sucks. It sucked then and it still does. And it's high time you start owning up to your part in it. I covered for you back then when I probably shouldn't have, but you can bet I'll never do it again. If you want to chase Baxter for some personal vendetta over Halfaya Pass, then you go right ahead, but you damned well better remember those ten kids you got killed. Because if you don't, there's gonna be a lot more like them!" The two men stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Race said, "You have anything else to say, cause it's getting late and I gotta go."

Leeds' jaw worked and Race watched as he unclenched his fists slowly. "Just watch your back, Bannon, and those of the Quest family. Baxter and his people will stop at nothing to get what they want, and it's rapidly coming down to the point where the only place they can get it is from Benton Quest. And if that happens, I'm afraid that a time will come when certain people will decide that keeping his knowledge out of the enemy's hands must take precedence over everything else. If it gets that bad . . . well, let's just say you're going to have a lot more to worry about than just Baxter." With that, the man turned and strode away, leaving Race Bannon standing there with a gathering chill running up his spine.

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


It was close to 4:00 p.m. by the time Race pushed through the door to Figaroa Pizzeria and looked around for Estella. The restaurant was still relatively quiet at this hour and a quick glance around told Race that he had arrived before her.

"Please have a seat anywhere you would like, sir," a waiter commented to him as he moved past Race with a pizza balanced on one hand. "I'll be there to take your order in a minute."

Race nodded and moved to a table that sat in front of the windows, where he could look out on the street. Shedding coat and hat, he settled down to wait. The waiter came up and Race ordered coffee, telling him he was waiting for someone else to join him. As the man moved away, Race thought again about his conversation with Leeds. That the man had left a lot out was obvious. As was the fact that I-1 was running scared. Race shook his head. To be taking orders from the White House Chief of Staff? That was sheer insanity. That back door was meant only as a clandestine route to funnel information to the president, not as an avenue to dispense orders. And the man's parting shot was starting to make Race sweat. He didn't like the direction this was moving at _all_.

Reaching down into the pocket of his jacket, he hauled out his cell phone. Flipping it open, he punched in the speed dial code for the main number at the Compound and waited impatiently for connection to be completed. Finally, a click sounded on the other end and Benton's voice answered, 

"Hello?"

"Benton, it's Race."

"I'm glad to hear from you. We were starting to get worried. Is Estella with you?"

"No. I just got here and she hasn't arrived yet. Look, I'm not going to say much over the phone, but you remember that research we were discussing earlier? Well, I think it might benefit us to look into one of the large multi-national firms. You know . . . like Howard and Howard, White Enterprises, or _Elias International_." The emphasis was subtle, but the change in Benton's voice told Race that he hadn't missed it.

"That's an excellent idea. Looking into a company with broader holdings may be just the thing. I'll get started on that right away."

"Have Jessie and Kefira made it home yet?'

"Yes, they got in just a little while ago."

"Well, do me a favor and let Jess know that I want that _security upgrade_ done right away. It's been put off too long as it is." Again, Race could tell that Benton had picked up on what he was trying to say.

"I'll tell her. How far should she go with it?"

"All the way. I'll check her work when I get home." In the background, Race heard the bell above the door jingle and he glanced over quickly. The woman who had come in the door had her back to him, but he could tell by her clothing that it wasn't Estella. He turned back to the window and continued, "Once Stel gets here, we'll grab dinner and then head for the airport. We should be back by about eight or so."

"Alright, we'll look for you then. And in the mean time, take care, okay? Tomorrow's your wedding day, after all."

Race chuckled softly. "I won't forget. I'll talk to you later." He lowered the phone and just as he hit the disconnect button, a sultry voice said,

"Hello, Race."

He jerked around sharply, tense and ready to strike, only to stop short, gaping up in astonishment into the seductive dark eyes of Jade Kenyon. 

"Jade?" he said in disbelief.

"As ever," she replied with a laugh. She moved gracefully to the opposite side of the table and began unbuttoning her coat. Race rose and reached out to hold it for her as she slid out of it. Taking it from him, she tossed it carelessly across a nearby chair and sank down across from him. "It's been a long time."

"Close to three years," he agreed. He gazed at her for a long time. He could spot subtle changes when he looked closely . . . a few new lines around her eyes, a slightly different haircut, maybe just a little gaunter . . . but other than that, she looked just like the same old Jade. "What are you doing in New York?"

She tossed her head back and chuckled deeply. He automatically admired the smooth line of her throat as it disappeared into the deeply cut line of her blouse. The silky fabric clung to her body in a way that was guaranteed to raise any red-blooded male's blood pressure by several points. "Slumming," she replied lightly. She reached across the table and caught his hand in hers, toying with his fingers gently. "It's good to see you again. It's been rather dull without you around." Her touch was light and sensuous, and it reminded him sharply of other times when those fingers had wandered over other parts of his body with the same sort of touch.

_Shit!_ he thought, sitting back abruptly and pulling his hand away. _Where the hell is Estella?_ He rubbed the hand unconsciously, as though it had received an electric shock, and stared at her in consternation.

"If I didn't know better, I would think you aren't glad to see me," she pouted, but the glance she shot him through her lashes was enough to set the tablecloth on fire.

"I'm surprised to see you, that's all. I thought you were still in the Orient."

She shrugged and waved at the waiter. "I come and go," she replied. As the man came up, she said, "Can you get me a cup of tea . . . green tea preferably, if you have it."

The waiter hesitated a moment, then bowed slightly. "Certainly. Are you ready to order now?"

Jade said, "Yes," at the exact same instant that Race replied, "No!" in a forceful voice. Jade looked at him in surprise, and he added, "I'm here waiting for someone."

It sounded lame, even to him. Race watched as the waiter looked Jade up and down, taking in her raven hair, lithe body, flawless skin, and long, shapely legs. She was a beautiful woman and the waiter's gaze said that he recognized that fact. The disbelieving look the man then shot him very clearly said, _Are you crazy? You're going to pass** that** up?!?_ But all he said aloud was, "Certainly, sir. Just signal me when you're ready." Then he turned and walked away.

With a private shake of his head, he turned back to find Jade regarding him with a hurt and curiously vulnerable expression. "What?" she said softly, "Have I developed the plague or something?"

"No, of course not," he replied.

"Well, then what is it? I've never known you to mind my advances before. In fact, you used to welcome them."

"Yes, I know . . ."

"It's been a long time since we've seen each other, I'll grant you, but I can't say I expected this sort of reaction."

Race reached across the table and caught her hand, hanging onto it tightly when she tried to jerk it away. "Jade, this has nothing to do with you. Of course I'm glad to see you. I always am . . ." He paused, and then qualified it a bit. " . . . well, most of the time, anyway. No, this has to do with me, and things that are going on in my life right now. Your appearance just caught me off guard, that's all."

Jade carefully disengaged his fingers from her hand and laid them in her lap before looking at him and asking, "What kind of things?" A frown suddenly formed as she looked at him in concern. "You aren't in trouble, are you?"

Race relaxed, sitting back in his chair, and chuckled. "Well, I guess that depends on your definition of 'trouble'. You remember Estella Velasquez?"

Jade relaxed back in her chair as well, crossing her long legs gracefully. "Your ex-wife? Yes, I remember her. She giving you problems?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm marrying her again tomorrow." The silence that settled around them after that announcement was profound. Race watched the woman across the table as a range of emotions flickered across her face in rapid succession. Finally, in a curiously dead voice, she replied,

"Well, well. Isn't this a surprise? I suppose I should say 'congratulations'." 

Race eyed her with an uncertain expression, surprised by her response. "I know this is unexpected, Jade, but I had hoped you would be happy for me."

Jade gazed at the white-haired man sitting across from her for a long moment before she responded, "Of course I'm happy for you, Race. What makes you think I'm not?"

Race returned her look evenly and replied, "Because I know you, Jade. I've known you for a long time. And I can tell that you're upset."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she said, a trifle sharply. Then she laughed and relaxed back into her chair. "I will admit that you surprised me. I would have thought once was enough. You really must be a glutton for punishment."

Race frowned. "This isn't funny."

"Of course it is, darling!" That old, taunting tone was back in her voice . . . the one that used to just drive him to distraction. "I find it absolutely hilarious."

"Why?"

Jade eyed the man for a moment, disconcerted. Finally, she said, "You forget. I was around the last time everything went to hell."

"It's not going to go to hell this time."

"Of course it isn't, darling," she replied in that mocking tone. "This time everything is going to be absolutely perfect." She rose leisurely and stretched. Race was suddenly reminded of a cat. "Well, I should be on my way."

"Stick around," Race urged her, suddenly reluctant to see her leave. "We haven't talked in a long time, and I know Estella would be pleased to see you again."

Jade laughed once, a short, sharp sound that contained very little humor, and shook her head. "I very much doubt it. Your blushing bride-to-be doesn't like me very much. I think it's better for both of us if I'm good and far away from here before she arrives." Jade picked up her coat and shrugged into it as she continued, "It was pure chance that I saw you sitting in the window. I was here on business and was taking one final stroll through New York before heading to the airport to return home again. But, somehow, I don't think Estella would buy that."

Race looked at her with a frown, picking up on an undercurrent of something that he couldn't put his finger on . . . something she wasn't saying. In the end, he let the comment go. "Where's home these days, Jade?"

"Bangkok," she replied shortly as she buttoned her long, black leather coat.

"Still in Bangkok, huh? After your house was destroyed the last time we were there, I figured you had probably moved on."

"Whatever for? Business was good, and they never did pin anything on me for the theft of that artifact." She shrugged eloquently. "Things were still going well, so I stuck around." She reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves and began to pull them on.

He leaned forward suddenly and with a strange urgency, said, "Don't you ever get tired of it all, Jade? Of having to watch your back all of the time? Of all of the wheeling and dealing? Don't you ever just want to call it quits?"

She eyed him for a moment, seemingly startled. Finally, she shook herself slightly and gave him that seductive, secretive smile. It occurred to him that it had been her sole legacy to him over more years than he cared to count. "Quit?" she said flippantly. "But, darling, what fun would that be? You have a nice life, lover boy." She turned and began to walk away, the sensuous sway of her gate even more pronounced than usual. As she opened the door, she looked back at him one last time. "You know how to find me . . . if you ever want to."

The door closed with a quiet finality and Race Bannon watched the black-hair woman dart across the busy street and disappear into the gathering darkness. He stared after her for a while, thinking about the many years he had known her, and yet how very little he actually knew.

Finally, he shook his head. No, Jade was a mystery and it was unlikely she would never change. Jade was Jade. It was the only thing you could say for certain. She was a free spirit . . . a wild thing that could never be pinned down. He supposed that for a long time it was her wildness that he found attractive. Not that it mattered now. The soft jingling of a bell cut through his reverie. He looked up to see Estella come through the door. Her face was flushed from the cold and her flaming red hair was wind blown. Across the room, their eyes met and she smiled. "Have a nice life, Jade," he murmured softly, and then put her out of his mind completely.

He rose as Estella approached and reached out to help her with her coat. She smiled again and started to say something as she turned to him, but he didn't give her a chance. Tossing her coat negligently onto the nearby chair, he took her in his arms and kissed her softly. Her warm, spicy fragrance filled his head and he drew her more tightly against him, allowing the kiss to become deeper and more demanding. Her arms circled him and she responded willingly. When he finally released her, she was flushed and breathless.

Laughing, she fanned herself a little and asked, "Well, what was that for?" They both sat down and he caught her hand. Turning it over, he kissed her palm.

"Because I felt like it."

"Like that? In such a public place?" Her tone may have sounded a bit scandalized, but her eyes told him that she wasn't upset by it. In fact, he could tell the openly sexual action excited her.

"I don't have a problem with the setting. Do you?"

She laughed again and replied, "I don't think I'm going to answer that on the grounds that it's liable to incriminate me." This time, their laughter was intimate and full of promise for later. Estella ran her fingers through her hair ruefully. "I must look a mess. The wind's starting to come up and I didn't have a hat."

"You look absolutely gorgeous." She shot him another look, and he could tell she was wondering about his mood. Smiling at her again, he asked, "How did your afternoon go? Any problems?"

"None at all. We got to the airport in plenty of time for Rajeev to make his plane. I did go in with him and walked him to his gate. He'd only been in JFK the one time and I figured it was the least I could do. It's one of the reasons I'm so late . . . I got to the dress shop later than I'd planned. I have to say, that is one heck of a dress your daughter picked out for me. And they did have to do a few minor alternations, so I had to wait until they finished. Have you been here long?"

He shook his head. "No, not long." Race caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over just in time to see the waiter come out of the kitchen. The man's abrupt double take made Race grin in amusement.

Estella looked at him, puzzled, then looked over her shoulder at the waiter. "What?"

Race shook his head, still smiling, and said, "Nothing. Are you ready for something to eat? I'm starved." She nodded and Race signaled the waiter. The man practically ran across the room. As Estella perused the menu, the man gave her the same serious assessment that he had given Jade. This time he saw a tall, stately redhead with deep emerald eyes and matte white skin. She had changed from her copper-colored jump suit of that morning into a caramel brown dress of a soft knitted fabric that clung to her curves enticingly. A soft, unconscious smile lit her face . . . a smile that Race had learned many years before reflected the way she was feeling. Right now, this woman was happy. She looked up and smiled at the waiter warmly.

"I'll have the shrimp marinara and a glass of red wine."

The waiter smiled back at her, looking a bit dazed, and then turned a glassy look on Race. "And for the gentleman?"

"Lasagna and a salad with house dressing. Coffee to drink."

The man made a note on his pad and began to turn away. Abruptly, he stopped and looked back at Race. "A good choice, sir, if I may say so. I commend you for your taste." Then he walked away quickly.

Estella stared after the man, mystified. "Well, that was strange. Is the lasagna that good?"

Race laughed softly and, leaning forward, he caught her hand again. "He wasn't talking about the food."

"He wasn't?" she said in confusion. "Then what . . ." Suddenly, she stopped and he saw her blush. "Oh."

He chuckled again and kissed her fingers gently, before leaning back in his chair once more. "Actually, I ran into an old friend while I was waiting for you . . . or to be more precise, she ran into me."

"Oh, really?" she replied, seemingly relieved to get away from the prior topic. "Who was that?" 

"Jade Kenyon." Estella froze, her water glass halfway to her lips.

"Jade?" Carefully, she set the glass back down on the table and looked at him with a suddenly shuttered expression, the happy smile gone. "What was she doing here?"

Race shrugged. "In town on business, she said. She didn't offer any details and I didn't ask." He looked at her more closely and then sat forward in concern. "Estella, what is it? What's wrong?"

She turned away blindly, bowing her head to hide her face from him. "Nothing . . . nothing at all. I'm fine. I think I need to use the bathroom."

But before she could rise, he caught her hand and said, "No, that's not true. You're upset. Tell me what's wrong." He reached out with his other hand and caressed her cheek gently. She tugged ineffectually, trying to free her hand from his grasp. "Stel, look at me." He shifted his fingers and tilted her chin up until she had to meet his eyes. He saw unshed tears reflected there. "What?" Then, with sudden clarity he knew, and he said incredulously, **_"Jade?"_**

She swallowed with difficulty and in a small voice she said, "Your past is coming back to haunt me a lot recently."

"Oh God, Estella, you've never had anything to fear from Jade." He brought the hand he was holding to his lips and kissed it again. "I promise you."

Estella slid her hand from his and tucked them in her lap. "Race, I know . . . "

"Know what?" he asked, confused.

"That you almost married her."

The look he gave her was astonished. "Married her? I'd never marry Jade . . . the idea's never even entered my head. Any man that would marry her would have to be crazy . . . or have a death wish. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Jessie told me."

Race leaned back in his chair and stared at her dumbfounded. "Our _daughter_ told you that I almost married Jade? Where the hell did she get that idea?"

"Jade told her . . . said that she was almost Jessie's step-mother."

For a long moment, Race simply sat gazing at the beautiful redhead blankly.

Estella took a deep breath and said, "It's okay, Race. I can deal with . . ."

"No! No, it's not okay." He sat forward and reached across the table. Cupping the back of her neck, he caressed her cheek with his thumb and stared directly into her eyes. "I swear to you, Estella. There has only been one woman in my entire life that I've cared enough about to consider marrying, and that woman is you. Nothing will ever change that. Jade is a friend and former co-worker . . . nothing else. And believe me, the next time I see her . . . if I ever see her again . . . we will have a few words about _**that**_ rumor!"

After a moment, she gave him a shaky smile and, catching his hand, she drew it to her and caressed the back of it with her cheek. "I love you so much," she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear.

"And I love you." He leaned forward over the table, and catching her by the nape of her neck again, he drew her forward and kissed her. A discreet cough caused them break the kiss, and the waiter said diffidently,

"Your dinner . . . "   


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
Some time later, Estella looked at Race in the intermittent lights of oncoming traffic and said, "You never told me what Leeds had to say." She saw him frown. 

"I don't quite know what to make of it. I'm not sure 'spooked' is even an adequate term to describe it. Those people are _scared_."

"It has you worried." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes. Enough so that I called Benton and had him go to a full boat, level three security lockdown on the Compound." He shook his head. "Leeds implied that someone in the government is beginning to feel that Benton may be too great of a security risk."

"What does that mean?"

He looked over at her. There was a time when he wouldn't have answered that question, but he wouldn't lie to her any longer. "It means that someone in the intelligence community is considering putting a contract out on Benton Quest's life . . . probably a sanctioned hit."

Estella stared at him in shock. "You . . . you mean, they would deliberately murder him?"

"Yes." He licked his lips, tasting the bile that was rising in his throat. "Oh, they would justify it by saying that it was for the overall better good, but it would be murder, just the same." He flipped on his turn signal and took the off ramp into LaGuardia Airport, following the signs that directed him to the private hangars not far from the Marine Air Terminal. As they idled, waiting for traffic to clear so they could make a left into the private hangar complex, he glanced over at her. She was huddled back against the car door as far from him as she could get, hugging her coat around her tightly. Her eyes were huge in the dim light.

"Did you . . ." She stopped and swallowed, as though not wanting to ask the question. Finally, she said, "Did you . . . ever . . . " 

"No," he said flatly. He glanced at her again. She hadn't moved. It was darker here, but she could still see the look of betrayal on his face as he looked at her. "I've killed, Estella. I won't lie to you about that. But only in self-defense or in defense of someone I was assigned to protect. I've never committed cold-blooded murder." He turned to stare out the front window again. "I never sank quite _that_ low." After a moment, he added bitterly, "No matter what you may think."

"No, no of course not, I-I'm sorry . . ."

"Forget it," he said shortly. He completed the turn and drove across the open tarmac in silence.

After a few minutes, Estella asked hesitantly, "Could Jade's sudden appearance be tied to this in some way?"

"No."

Race reached forward and pressed a button on the dashboard in front of him. Up ahead of them, a door on one of the hangars began to slide open. Race slowed, giving the doors time to open fully, and then drove the car inside. He turned off the motor, and pressed a second switch on the dashboard. Nothing happened. He swore irritably in the dark. "What the hell has happened to the hangar lights? Shit." He snatched the keys out of the ignition with another curse and fumbled in the dark, searching for the one that would open the locked panel on the wall by the door. Finding the appropriate key, he yanked viciously on the car door handle and shoved the door open. "Stay here," he snapped. Estella twisted around to watch his shadow move toward the control panel near the main hangar door. 

Suddenly, against the lighter darkness of the large bay door, she saw a stealthy shape move out of the deeper shadows of the interior of the hangar. Even in the dark, the shape of the submachine gun was distinctive. For a fraction of a second, Estella froze, hardly able to believe her eyes. Then she screamed his name wildly in a high, shrill voice and tried to hurtle herself across the seat toward the open door. In that instant, World War III seemed to erupt in the confines of that enclosed space. Voices yelled wildly and the sound of gunfire filled the air. Bullets ripped into the car, shattering the windows and whining off the metal. Estella threw herself down on the seat and rolled, hitting the floorboards with a force that drove the wind out of her. In the darkness, she clawed desperately under the car seat, knowing that Race always kept a weapon under there for emergencies. Her hand closed on something metal and she clutched at it frantically. In the hangar, a new sound was suddenly heard . . . the high, popping whine of a laser pistol. For a brief instant, relief flooded her as she realized that Race was still alive and armed.

Suddenly, a black shape rose up in the open car door. A hand reached down, grabbed her viciously by the hair, and hauled her out of the car. She cried out in pain, struggling desperately as the stranger dragged her over the doorsill and out onto the hangar floor.

In the darkness, the red light of a targeting sight lit up on her chest. "I'll kill her, Bannon. I swear I will. Throw the gun out here and come out. **NOW**." Estella kicked out at her assailant viciously, catching him across the shins, but her straight skirt and lack of good leverage prevented her from getting much force behind the blow. The man swore at her, yanked her violently to her feet by her hair, and pulled her against him tightly with a strong arm around her shoulders. "You're a hellion, aren't you?" he hissed in her ear. "I like ones that fight. Hold still now or you'll wish you were dead long before I decide kill you. You understand me?" The man turned his head and raised his voice, calling out again, "Are you coming out, Bannon, or do I put a slug right between her pretty green eyes?" Estella fumbled in the dark, searching desperately for the safety on the gun she still clung to.

Suddenly, her thumb found it and with a smooth, silent action it clicked off just as Race's voice called out, "Alright. You win. I'll come out." She spared only the briefest instant to pray that the gun was loaded. Then she stomped down hard on her assailant's foot, and thrust an elbow sharply into his midsection. With a pained gasp, his grip on her loosened and she twisted around sharply. She grasped the gun in both hands, thrust it against his body and pulled the trigger.

The explosion seemed to deafen her. As if from some distance, she heard the man cry out and she could feel him stumble away from her. Wild shots erupted in the hangar again, and she dropped to her knees, still clutching the gun. After a minute she forced herself to move, and she crawled around to the front of the car, where she hunched down, shivering. A few more wild shots, and then everything was silent. She stayed where she was, unsure whether the silence was due to it being over or if her hearing was totally gone. Then, from the darkness, his voice came.

"Estella, are you there?" The sound released a cascade of emotions in her, and she began to tremble violently. "Estella??" This time she heard fear.

It took her two tries. "Here," she finally managed.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" Fear, stronger this time.

Was she? She hadn't processed that far yet. "I . . . I don't know . . ."

"Stay there. Don't move." Raw fear now, and an edge of panic.

Telltale small sounds told her that he was moving. She did as he told her, staying hunched on the floor, her ears straining for the slightest hint of a sound. She still clutched the gun in a deathgrip and she shook as though chilled through. And suddenly there was light . . .

They flared to life with no warning, and Estella cried out in pain, shielding her eyes from the sudden, blinding glare. Then he was there, taking the gun from her gently and pulling her to her feet to hold her against him tightly. She clung to him, convinced she was going to shake apart. After a moment, his grip eased and he looked down at her in concern. "Are you hurt, Stel? " Slowly, she shook her head. "You're sure?"

She stepped back unsteadily, assessing how she felt. "Y-yes, I t-think I'm okay." She raised her arm to put a shaky hand to her head, and only then noticed the blood on her arm. "On the other hand . . . " She rubbed the top of her head and when she looked at her hand, it was covered with blood, as well. "I think I may have lost some hair," she said irrelevantly. She put her hand to her head again and winced. "Damn, that hurts."

Muttering a string of profanity, he reached for her arm, but she laid her hand against his chest and reassured him, "No, it's not bad. Doesn't really even hurt much."

"Yet," he replied. He reached out and tilted her head forward gently to look at it. Then he shook his head. "We need a towel. I don't think any of it's too bad, but I can't tell for sure. You wait here. I'll be right back." As she watched him cross the brightly lit hangar, she pressed her arm against her stomach. It was still bleeding and it occurred to her offhandedly that her dress was probably ruined. A sudden fear gripped her and she called out to him frantically,

"Race!" He spun, bringing the laser pistol he still held up sharply. "Close that door. Please, close it. They could shoot you from the dark and we'd never see it coming!"

"Good thought." He crossed to the control panel, which was now standing open, and flipped a switch. Ponderously, the large door began to slide shut. They both stood silently, watching it until, with a final clang, it closed securely.

As Race went searching for a towel, Estella looked around the hangar numbly. The car looked to be a total loss. All four tires were flat, there wasn't an intact piece of glass in it, and the body was riddled with bullet holes. Looking at it, she was dully amazed that she was still alive. The plane in the hangar was actually one of the large cargo planes the Quests used for transporting equipment. The family jet was housed in the smaller hangar next door, which was a good thing, because she didn't think this one was going to fly anytime soon.

Then her eyes fell on the body in the middle of the floor. Unsteadily, she crossed over to stand, staring down at her assailant. He had been a big, muscular man with a swarthy face and dark hair. He had a scar along one eyebrow, the earlobe of his left ear was missing, and he had a tattoo of a dragon across the back of one hand. There was also a very large, bloody hole right in the middle of his body. She stumbled back, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep from getting sick. Race was suddenly back, guiding her away from the dead man. He pressed a clean white towel to the top of her head and led her across the hangar until the dead man was no longer visible.

"I did that," she whispered raggedly.

"You had no choice. We both would have been dead if you hadn't." He led her into a small room off the main hangar and sat her down in a desk chair. He cleaned up her head gently and put a makeshift bandage on her arm, telling her the damage was minor, and then ran his hands over every inch of her to reassure himself that she had suffered no other injuries. Other than minor cuts and bruises, she appeared to have survived. It was only after he finished, that he told her not to move and went back out into the hangar. She sat motionless for about five minutes, thinking of nothing at all. But eventually, the inactivity finally began to grate and she stirred. Looking around with a bit more awareness, she found that she was in a medium-sized office of some sort. Sitting to one side on the desk were two pictures in a hinged frame. The first was a relatively new picture of Jessie and Jonny. Jessie's head was tucked up under Jonny's chin, lying on his chest, and the two of them were smiling directly into the camera. The other was a picture of her. It was an old picture, taken at the Embassy in Paris the night she had met him. She was dressed in an elegantly simple white gown and the picture had captured her in an unguarded moment as she descended the grand staircase into the ballroom. She didn't even remember it being taken. She looked very young.

Estella looked up as he came back in, the pictures still in her hand. He walked over and took them from her gently and set them back on the desk.

"Where did that come from?" she asked curiously. "They never allowed photographers in the embassy at functions like that."

He looked at her and a smile played at the corner of his lips. "I pilfered it from the security surveillance footage of the function that night. One of my buddies at I-1 began ribbing me about the beautiful redhead I'd abandoned my post for, and when I demanded to know how he knew about that, he showed me the surveillance tapes. I used company equipment to create a still and printed it."

"And you kept it all these years."

"Yes."

She absorbed that thoughtfully. Then she looked up and smiled at him tentatively. He smiled back, caressed her cheek gently and then sighed.

"I hate to say it, darling, but I'm afraid this is going to be a long night and we're not going to get home any time too soon."

"Have you called the police?"

He nodded. "Just did. They'll be here before long. And airport security is checking out the other hangar to make sure they didn't get in there. Looks like they were waiting here for us, knowing that we'd come here first to put the car away."

"They've been watching us, then."

"Looks like it."

"Any idea who they are?"

"Not yet."

She sighed wearily. "You know, they could have at least waited until after tomorrow."

A sharp knocking sound came from the other room. "Stay here," he commanded, and disappeared back out into the hangar. A few seconds later, he returned and reached a hand down to pull her to her feet. "The other hangar and the jet are clear. They didn't get in there at all. Come on. I'm going to take you over there and you can lie down on the plane and rest while I deal with the cops."

She gave him a small, twisted smile. "Cleaning up the mess after I killed somebody again. Why do I have a sense of déjà vu?"

"A small price to pay to have you in my life, I assure you." And then he led her away from the carnage and death.


	10. Chapter 9 Friday, December 24

**Chapter 9**

  


Friday, December 24

  


Quest Compound 

"And so there you have it," Race finished wearily. "A great, big, fat zero. No I.D.s, not hint of who they were working for, nothing." The clock on the shelf nearby read 3:10 a.m., as Race leaned back in the big chair in Benton's study and rubbed his forehead. All of his earlier, adrenaline-driven energy had drained away leaving him numb and exhausted.

"Could it have been Leeds?" Benton asked quietly. 

Race sighed and waved a hand vaguely. "Who knows? I suppose it could have been, but the attack was so shapeless and unexpected. Leeds can be impulsive, but what did he have to gain by it? He said he was there without his supervisor's knowledge and I believe him. Benton, the man is scared. Seriously so. He was walking a very fine line between telling me what he thought I absolutely had to know and what he could tell me without totally sinking himself. He knew a lot more, but he simply couldn't bring himself to let go of the training and tell me what it was." He thought about it for a moment longer and then continued, "It seems to me that this was more of an unexpected opportunity that someone decided to capitalize on at the last minute. If they'd had more time to plan, they could have rigged one or both hangars to blow up or tampered with the plane or something to guarantee our deaths. Instead, they planted poorly equipped assailants in the hangar to wait for us and take us out when we arrived. They didn't even have night vision equipment . . . they were as blind as we were. It was sloppy."

"So you're certain their intent was to kill you."

"Yeah, of that I'm almost positive. They knew who we were. The leader called me by name. And he knew what color Estella's eyes were, even in the dark."

"How is she?"

"Holding up. She's exhausted, of course, but by the time the cops got to her, she was composed and answered all of their questions calmly." He laughed, but the sound didn't come out sounding particularly humorous. "Estella's a lot tougher than she looks." In sudden anger, he pounded the arm of the chair viciously. "Why **NOW?** Why the hell did this have to happen _**NOW!?**_" But the emotion drained away just as quickly as it flared. "This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives," he said wearily.

Benton smiled gently at his friend. "Don't worry, Race. I'm sure it will be. Go to bed. You look like death warmed over and in about 12 hours you're going to be expected to look your best. You need sleep and I suspect that Estella needs to have you close right now."

Benton watched as Race rose and moved slowly across the room. As he reached the door, he turned and smiled back at the older man. "Thanks, Benton . . . for everything." And then he was gone.

Benton sat silently until he heard the door to Race's living quarters close. It had cost him a great deal to maintain his calm, rational demeanor over the last several hours. Ever since he had received the phone call from the Port Authority at LaGuardia telling him that there had been an incident in the Quest hangars, the rage had been building. For close to three hours, there had been no word other than the fact that there had been heavy gunfire and that there were several people dead. No amount influence he could exert would get him any more than that. And as the hours passed and there was no word from either Race or Estella, he began to fear the worst. He had said nothing to anyone, bearing the pain of waiting alone, seeing no sense in getting the entire house in an uproar until he knew something for certain. Finally, at around 11:00 p.m., Race had called. Both he and Estella had been spirited off to a safehouse by the NYPD while the hangars were searched and declared safe and an initial attempt was made to find their assailants. In the end, it had proved fruitless . . . the men were gone like wisps of smoke in the wind. Race had spent the entire time arguing that he needed to call the Compound, however the bull-headed detective in charge of the case had refused to allow him to do so, saying that if these assassins were targeting them, the Quest phone lines were sure to be tapped. By the time Race had finally managed to call, he was absolutely furious. Benton had held his rage in check, first so he could deal with the shock and emotions that came when he had to tell the rest of the family, and then so he could support Race and Estella when they finally arrived home safely.

But now all of that was past, and Benton was ready to put some of that pent up emotion to practical use. "IRIS," he said tightly, "I want you to get me the home telephone number of Admiral Charles Bennett in Silver Spring, Maryland. I don't care if it's unlisted, I want it. And once you have it, I want you to place a telephone call to him and route it to me here in the study."

"ACKNOWLEDGED," the feminine voice replied. "WORKING." A few moments later, the soft voice said, "THE CALL IS BEING PUT THROUGH NOW."

Very carefully, Benton picked up the receiver on his desk and put it to his ear. He heard a sharp click and then a voice, husky with sleep, said, "Hello?"

Benton took a deep breath and in a quiet, rigidly controlled voice, he said, "Admiral Bennett, this is Benton Quest." He could sense the man's shock even through the phone line.

"Dr. Quest?! What . . ."

"I am not a happy man right now, Admiral. In fact, to say that I am angry would be to understate the situation rather dramatically. Members of my family were viciously attacked without provocation this evening. Now, we both know that you know why this happened. We also know that you've been expecting it for some time, and yet you have made no effort to tell us what's going on so we could protect ourselves."

"Dr. Quest . . ."

"My hold on my temper is very tenuous right now, Admiral. I am extremely stressed and I can assure you that you do not want to push me. At 8:00 a.m., you will be here at this Compound. You will have Isaac Wolenchek with you, and you will come with a full explanation of what is going on . . . "

"Dr. Quest, please . . . you must understand that I . . ."

"If you are not here by 8:00 a.m.," Benton continued relentlessly with the same cold fury, "I will call a press conference, and I will announce to the entire world that you, and the current administration, are covering up a covert operation that includes planned assassinations of me and other members of my family."

"No!" Bennett said frantically. "You can't! You know we wouldn't do that . . ."

"I know nothing of the sort, Admiral." His fury was becoming more and more evident. "What I do know is that I was warned by an operative within your own organization that such a move was being considered and then several hours later, exactly that sort of attack was attempted against members of my family. I promise you that, if pushed, I will provide enough evidence to support this allegation. Any credibility the current administration has will be totally destroyed. Heads will roll, Admiral, yours among them. And I believe you know me well enough to know that I don't make idle threats."

"Please, you have to listen. You don't know what's at stake. . ."

"8:00 a.m., Admiral ," Benton said. "You will come by land and present yourself at the main gate of this facility. Do not attempt to approach it by air. You will be shot down." Benton could hear the man breathing heavily on the other end of the line. "One more thing, Admiral . . . "

"What?"

"Don't . . . be . . . late."

And with that, Benton set the receiver back in the cradle gently and sat back in his chair to wait. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
It was 4:17 a.m. when Admiral Bennett walked through the door of his Pentagon office to find Commander Barclay and Dr. Wolenchek waiting for him. 

Barclay turned to him immediately and said, "Admiral! What's happened? Your call said it was an emergency . . ."

"That's exactly what I want to know. Where's Leeds?"

"He should be here any minute. The duty officer downstairs told me he's in the building already."

"So, what is it, Admiral? What's so urgent?" Wolenchek asked.

"I got a telephone call from Benton Quest about 45 minutes ago. The man was furious! Something about his family being attacked. He's demanding that Isaac and I be at his Maine Compound by 8:00 this morning and he's also demanding explanations."

"Who was attacked?" Wolenchek said in alarm. "Was anyone hurt?"

"I don't know . . ."

"It was Race Bannon," Leeds said, striding into the room. "The head of operations says that he and someone named Velasquez were jumped at the Quest hangars at LaGuardia last night."

"Any other details?" Barclay queried.

"Not really. The little we do know says that Bannon made it out alive, but that there were three others killed in the altercation."

Bennett went white. "One of them wasn't Dr. Velasquez, was it?"

"Who is this Velasquez person?" Wolenchek asked.

Leeds shook his head. "I don't know. There were no identities given for the dead. It's possible that Velasquez was one of them. All we know is that among those involved was a Dr. E. Velasquez, listed as a resident of Colombia. I assumed he was a colleague of Dr. Quest's. The report is very sketchy and the New York cops are not being at all forthcoming." 

Bennett sat down unsteadily. "Oh God, if Dr. Velasquez has been killed, we're finished. Quest will never cooperate and Bannon will be out for blood."

"But who is . . ." Wolenchek began, but he was interrupted by Barclay, who said,

"There's a woman listed in Bannon's personnel file . . . an Estella Velasquez. Would that be the one? His ex-wife?"

Bennett nodded his head, swallowing with difficulty. "The woman Bannon was due to remarry almost any day now."

"Oh, shit," Leeds said softly.

Bennett raised a shaking hand and massaged the back of his neck in an effort to ease cramped muscles. "Quest was in a towering rage . . . I've never heard him like that before . . . like it was taking everything he had just to hold himself in check."

"So he asked that you come to Maine to talk with him?" Barclay said, dropping heavily into the chair across the desk.

"No, he didn't ask me . . . he _told_ me. Said I _would_ be there . . . with Isaac, and that we _would_ be forthcoming with a complete explanation of what is going on."

"And if we didn't come?" Wolenchek asked.

"Then he would go public with the entire mess." Bennett looked around the room, his expression turning hard. "He _**also**_ informed me that he had been told by someone from inside this organization that he was being regarded as a potential security risk. Would anyone here care to comment on how that leak occurred?"

For a long time, no one said anything. Eventually, Bennett said ominously, "I am all too aware that the only people who knew that Quest was being considered as a potential security risk are the four of us and Niemeyer. Since I have to assume that Niemeyer has nothing to gain by leaking that information, it stands to reason it comes from here. I promise you, I _will_ find that leak, and when I do . . ." He didn't finish the sentence . . . he didn't need to.

Barclay sighed into the resulting stillness. "Right now, Admiral, I think the question is, what are we going to do? What are the chances that Quest is bluffing?"

"Zero," Bennett replied, flatly. "The man doesn't bluff about things like this. If he says he'll do it, then he'll do it."

"In that case, I don't see that we have much choice," Wolenchek observed. "We go to Maine, and once there, we do the best we can to defuse the situation. We can't let the man go public with any of this, because if he does, it's going to lead right back to the real reason for it all and that we can't risk."

"But we are still under the same direction from Niemeyer to keep Quest in the dark," Barclay pointed out. "I don't see how we can do that and satisfy Quest."

"Then it's time to say, 'Screw Niemeyer' and do what we should have done all along . . . bring Quest into it and tap his expertise," Leeds said. "Bannon is not a security risk, and neither is Quest. It's suicide to try and keep them in the dark any longer."

"Unless Estella Velasquez is already dead," Bennett said heavily. He sighed deeply. "Leeds is right. We no longer have a choice. But if we're going to defy Niemeyer, we might as well go all the way. Ethan, I want you to put together a team of about 40 men. Make them the best we can get our hands on. I'd be willing to bet that Quest will never let them within the Compound, but the place is isolated and surrounded by large stands of trees. It may be a fortress when it's locked down, but it's not going to hurt if we put some added manpower on its outer perimeter. Hopefully, in the end, Quest will let us keep them there. And all of us are going to go, not only Isaac and I."

Leeds stood up abruptly. "Perhaps it's not a wise idea for me . . ."

Bennett turned an icy stare on the Irishman. "You will go, Leeds. It's not a request."

"Bannon won't want me there," the man replied flatly.

Bennett looked at the man meaningfully. "On the other hand, if Estella Velasquez is dead and he thinks you had any involvement in this at all, he may want you there very badly . . . " Bennett looked at his watch. "It is now 04:30, gentleman. We leave for Maine in 45 minutes. I would suggest you prepare yourselves." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
Race woke suddenly. He lay there motionless searching for what had brought him to consciousness. It was still early. The light that was seeping into the room was the soft gray of pre-sunrise. Estella lay nestled in his arms; her back curled into the curve of his body. Her breathing was slow and even, and the shadow of a smile played at the corner of her lips. He had just about decided that nothing untoward had brought him awake when the sound came again . . . a soft scraping tap on the door of their bedroom. Race untangled himself and rose, moving soundlessly. Estella stirred, uttering a tiny sound of protest, and Race leaned over and tucked the blanket around her gently. With a soft sigh, she settled back into sleep. Race grabbed up his bathrobe and crossed to the door swiftly. Carefully, he opened it and slid through into the outer living area. Benton stood waiting for him. Race motioned him toward the outer door and the two men moved across the room and out into the corridor of the main house. Closing the door quietly behind him, Race turned and eyed Benton Quest closely. He was still dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing when they had parted earlier that morning, and there was a tenseness about him that Race found disturbing. 

"Problem?" Race asked quietly.

Benton shook his head. "No. Or, at least, not really."

Race raised an eyebrow at him and said, "I'm not sure that makes me feel a great deal better."

"We're going to have company." Benton consulted his watch. "In about an hour. I could do this alone, but I'd rather have you with me if you feel up to it."

"I feel fine. I've gotten a couple of hours of sleep. Have you?"

Benton hesitated and then shook his head. "No, I was too wound up to sleep."

"This won't do, Benton, and you know it."

"Yes, I know. But right now we need answers, and I intend to get them. Admiral Bennett and Isaac Wolenchek are due here at 8:00 and we need to be ready for them."

Race did a double take. "Bennett here? How did you accomplish that?"

"I didn't give him a choice," Benton replied grimly.

"You called him and politely invited him for morning coffee and he agreed?" Race asked with heavy sarcasm.

"Not exactly."

Race sighed. "Please tell me you didn't threaten him."

"Well . . ."

"Benton, you _know_ that's not the way to get cooperation out of these people."

"I had to do something! I'm not going to allow the members of this family to be sitting ducks while these people make up their minds about what they're going to do."

Race just shook his head. "Alright. Let me go grab some clothes and then I'll use the bathroom upstairs to take a shower. Stel's still asleep and I want to let her stay that way as long as possible."

"Good. I'm going to get some coffee and I'll meet you in the study."

Twenty minutes later, Race entered the study to find Benton sitting at his desk. Hadji sat in one of the large chairs near the desk, while Jonny leaned against the wall right next to his father. It looked like this was going to be a larger council of war than he had expected. "So what's the agenda?"

Benton shrugged. "I'm going to get answers."

"Do you have any idea how you plan to do that?"

Benton sat brooding for a moment before he looked up at the younger man. Race was struck forcibly by the fury in his eyes. He had himself under control, but Race wasn't terribly sure how firmly.

"Exploding is not going to help the situation," Race warned as he walked over and sat down in the high-backed wing chair next to Hadji.

Benton sat back and rubbed his temples for a minute. "I know. And I won't lose my temper, I promise you. Something you said stuck with me, Race. These people are scared, and I intend to use that. If a bit of intimidation will get me what I want, I'm not going to hesitate to use it."

"Alright, but don't push too hard. These people will only give just so far and then they'll start to push back . . . rather forcibly. If things are as bad as I have the feeling they are, we are going to need them. We don't want to permanently alienate them."

"Understood."

Everyone in the room stiffened as IRIS announced, "A VEHICLE HAS TURNED OFF OF THE HIGHWAY ONTO THE MAIN ACCESS ROAD TO THIS FACILITY."

All four of them glanced at the clock on the nearby mantle. 7:55. "Success number one," Benton said, smiling grimly. "They're right on time. Route video surveillance feed to the monitor screen in the study, please, IRIS," Benton said, sitting forward in his chair. Both Race and Hadji turned to stare at the screen, and Jonny rose to stand at his father's back. They all watched as an unmarked, white sedan turned onto the snow-packed road and moved slowly toward the main gate.

Finally, Jonny remarked, "There are more than two people in that car." "I would say there are four," Hadji agreed.

"Race, can you tell who they are?" Benton asked.

After a moment Race shook his head. "Not from this distance."

Benton leaned back again, brooding. Finally, Jonny said, "I don't think we should let them in here without knowing who's in that car."

"I would suggest that we do not let the car in here at all," Hadji added.

"Agreed." Race said firmly. "It's too easy for them to bring something in without us knowing it."

Benton nodded, but before he could say anything else, Jonny said, "Then we go get them and escort them back here to the house. I'll go."

Race made to rise. "No, that's my job."

"Pardon me, Race, but I do not believe that is a wise idea." Hadji said. "We know you are already a prime target, probably because you are in charge of the security here. It would not be wise to expose you to a second attack until we know for certain that these are not the people responsible. Jonny is right. Someone else should go, but I believe I am the best person to do so."

"Now, how do you figure that?" Race asked as Hadji stood.

"Because, if I am not mistaken, Father threatened them with exposure, and that has made them come here. I believe, then, that they want to avoid this at all costs. I am the leader of a foreign country that would turn my death into an international incident. I do not believe they would attack me and risk that kind of publicity."

"Nice thinking, Hadj," Jonny said, "but you don't go alone. We both go." Moving around the desk, he said calmly, "Hang on, I'll be right back." With that, he left quickly.

"Alright," Race said reluctantly, "but you keep in constant contact with us. Pick up communications headsets before you leave and keep up a running dialog, at least until you get to the gate and get them in the car. IRIS will be able to monitor you visually, but you'll be too far out of range for us to hear anything. Also, have them move that car about 100 yards back from the gate, park it and walk back to the fence. You're to bring them in through the pedestrian gate, not open the big one."

As Hadji nodded and stood, Jonny came striding back in the door. "Here," Jonny said tossing something to his brother. Hadji caught the laser rifle deftly as Jonny swung the matching one up and double-checked the charge. For the first time, both Race and Benton looked alarmed.

"I don't know if that's . . ." Benton started to say, but Jonny cut him off.

"You know my feelings about guns, Dad, and I sure won't use this one unless I absolutely have to. But I really don't think it's a good idea to go out to meet those guys unarmed, do you? Particularly when we know they will be."

Race and Benton looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Race shook his head. "I hate to say it, Benton, but I think he's right. Until we know for certain what kind of game we're in the middle of, none of us are safe."

"Furthermore," Jonny added with a wicked grin, "there _is_ the intimidation factor. How comfortable would you be if you were being forced to walk into a potential war zone and you arrived to be greeted at the gate by two teenagers with guns?"

Benton's lips twitched in sudden amusement, but he quickly got himself under control and said sternly, "Alright. Just be careful and don't do anything stupid."

Both young men moved toward the door determinedly, but just before they reached it, Race stopped them. "One more thing." Both of them turned to look at him. "I want all of them in full view of the video cameras before you open that gate. I want to know _**who**_ we're letting in here." Both of them nodded and then turned and strode out of the room.

Race turned back and gave Benton a long look. "I hope you know what you're doing." Before Benton could reply, the phone on his desk began to ring.

"So do I," he replied as he picked it up. "Benton Quest," he said into the phone. He listened for a moment, and Race watched as his expression darkened. However, when he replied, his tone was light and cordial. "No. No, I don't know anything about it. No, I'm sure it's nothing . . . probably just routine. Of course, Barbara, I'll let you know. Thanks for calling. Yes, I do too. I'll see you this afternoon, then? Okay, good. Take care." Benton dropped the receiver back into the cradle and looked at Race grimly.

"Barbara Mason?" Race asked.

"Yes. It appears our friends here have brought backup with them. Barbara informs me that there are six rather large military vehicles, the kind that transport men and equipment, sitting up the road from her house just outside of Rockport."

"And naturally, she thinks to call and tell you about it."

"Well, let's face it, we had her out here at 2:00 a.m. this morning to take care of Estella. She's not stupid . . . she knows what I do for a living can be dangerous, and she's had to care for all of us at one time or another. I'm just grateful she let us know."

"Don't get me wrong, I appreciate her willingness to keep us up to speed. I just find it interesting that you're the first person she thinks of."

"She's a good friend," Benton replied distractedly, his attention focused on the video monitor across the room. Race just grinned and returned to his chair. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
The white sedan, with Bennett behind the wheel, came to a stop a few feet from the main gate of Quest Compound. Carefully, Bennett put the car in park and turned off the engine. Nothing stirred in the early morning stillness, and the high gate in front of them remained firmly closed. 

"Maybe they don't know we're here," Wolenchek ventured.

"They know," Bennett replied grimly. "They're taking stock of the situation."

"Why don't we just go up and ring the doorbell?" Leeds asked flippantly.

Bennett turned his head and gave the younger man a cold stare. Finally, he said, "Because I have seen the defenses of this facility in operation and I value my life."

"We can't just sit here," Leeds replied in irritation.

"We can and we will."

"We don't need to," Barclay replied, staring out the front window of the car.

They all turned and saw Jonny Quest and Hadji Singh standing on the other side of the gate. Side by side, they both stood warily, feet slightly apart, about 15 feet back from the fence. Both held weapons in a resting/ready position. With a sinking heart, Bennett opened the car door and, uttering a terse, "Stay here," he exited the car and moved a few steps forward. After a brief moment, he said, "Mr. Quest. Mr. Singh."

No friendly greetings and light-hearted banter this time. Jonny gestured at the vehicle with the gun. "Everybody out," he said flatly.

Bennett turned and gestured to the others, who all climbed out of the car and stood silently beside it.

"Open the back door." Jonny said tersely. Bennett complied without a word. "Your weapons . . . onto the floorboards . . . all of them." The three government men all pulled pistols out and did as instructed. Leeds added a second smaller gun and a knife.

"That's all of them," Bennett replied quietly.

"Be sure," Jonny said in a hard voice. "IRIS will know if it's not and you don't want to mess with her."

"I know. That's all of them," Bennett assured him again.

"You," Jonny said, pointing at Wolenchek, "back the car up and park it head-in under those trees over there. The rest of you, stay right where you are." Wolenchek moved forward and climbed into the driver's seat. Backing carefully on the slick drive, he maneuvered the car into the cleared spot under the trees. When he was finished, he climbed out and returned to the others.

"Very slowly, approach the fence. Don't touch it." The men did as they were told, coming to a stop about a foot from the barrier.

Back in the house, Race stared at the four men and uttered a heartfelt curse. He looked at Benton and said bitterly, "I should have expected this . . . Leeds. I don't want him here, Benton. All else aside, his presence will upset the hell out of Estella."

Benton sighed. "I'm sorry, old friend. I didn't tell Bennett to bring him, but now that he's here, I really think we should see him. So far, he's been the only one who appears to be willing to talk to us."

Race turned from the video monitor in agitation, running a hand through his hair. Finally, he turned back and with bitter resignation, he said into the headset he wore, "Alright, Jonny. Let them in . . . but keep an extremely close eye on them . . . especially the younger man with the black hair. Both of you, behind them . . . not in front. Don't turn your back on them. And keep your guns ready. I've also had second thoughts about putting you in an enclosed vehicle with them. So you're all gonna walk. Just take it nice and steady and bring them right up the main drive to the front door. And no conversation. Let them sweat."

Back at the gate, Jonny moved slightly to one side and approached the fence. To the empty air, he said, "IRIS, prepare to institute lockdown bypass procedures on my mark."

Hadji looked at the four men and motioned for them to move. "Move to the gate, please. When it opens you will move through it quickly, and in single file. Once inside, you will stand there, " he pointed to a spot about 20 feet inside the perimeter, "and you will wait. Is that understood?" All four nodded. Hadji looked at Jonny and nodded.

"IRIS, initiate lockdown bypass sequence for gate 2376 now."

"VOICE RECOGNITION PATTERN CONFIRMED. LOCKDOWN BYPASS SEQUENCE INITIATED. PLEASE PROVIDE AUTHORIZATION CODE OMICRON AT THIS TIME."

Jonny thought quickly and replied, "29Delta735Charlie413."

"AUTHORIZATION CODE ACCEPTED. PLEASE PLACE YOUR LEFT HAND ON THE RECOGNITION PANEL AND STATE YOUR FULL NAME AND TITLE."

He stepped up and laid his hand flat against the solid metal panel that formed the center of the gate. "Jonathan Benton Quest, Junior Research Technician and youngest son of Dr. Benton Christopher Quest, Director and Senior Research Scientist, Quest Enterprises, Incorporated, Rockport, Maine."

"HAND PRINT VERIFIED. VOICE PRINT VERIFIED. IDENTITY CONFIRMED. NOTE THAT THERE ARE FOUR INDIVIDUALS OUTSIDE GATE 2376 WHO DO NOT HAVE AUTHORIZED ACCESS TO THIS FACILITY UNDER CURRENT SECURITY STATUS. ARE THESE PEOPLE TO BE ALLOWED ACCESS AT THIS TIME?"

"Allow them entry to the grounds and safe passage to the main residential complex. They are to remain on the main road and are to be accompanied by an individual with authorized access at all times. At no time are they to be allowed to be unaccompanied or to be allowed access to any area classed as level 1. Access is to be revoked with extreme prejudice on the command of any authorized person in this facility or upon the violation of any of the stated access parameters."

In the study, Race chuckled grimly and said to Benton, "Now, there's intimidation for you. To anyone in the intelligence community, what Jonny just told IRIS was that any or all of them are to be killed if they violate any of the access conditions."

Benton shook his head and simply said, "Over the top . . . that's my son."

"INSTRUCTIONS ACCEPTED AND CONFIRMED. PLEASE PROCEED THROUGH GATE 2376. SECURITY LOCKDOWN WILL REESTABLISH IN 30 SECONDS."

Jonny tugged on the gate, which swung open easily, and gestured for the four men to proceed. They all entered and moved quickly to the place Hadji had indicated. Jonny gave the gate a shove and it swung shut with a loud clang.

"LEVEL THREE SECURITY LOCKDOWN REINITIATED. PREPARING FOR IDENTITY AND VOICE PRINT RECOGNITION REGISTRATION OF VISITORS."

Jonny gestured to Bennett. "Full name, title, place of employment. Go."

"Charles Donald Bennett, Admiral, United States Navy and Commander of U. S. Military Forces." The remaining three men each did the same. There was silence for a few seconds and then IRIS said,

"IDENTITY AND VOICE PRINT RECOGNITION REGISTRATION COMPLETE. YOU MAY PROCEED UNDER STATED CONDITIONS TO THE MAIN RESIDENCE."

"Okay, let's go. Straight up the drive to the house. You first."

"I take it we're going to walk," Leeds said, sounding slightly disgusted as they moved past the van sitting just out of sight of the main gate.

"It's a nice day for a stroll in the sunshine," Jonny said with grim humor. "Move."

Finally, the group approached the house. As they moved onto the flagstones, Race said, "Stop them there."

"Stop here," Jonny said sharply, and everyone came to a halt.

"Hadji, you first," Race commanded. "Up to the house, bypass the security and make sure the halls are clear straight back to the study before you allow them in the house. I don't want them encountering any of the rest of the family as they come through."

Giving the four men a wide berth, Hadji moved to the door and went through the same bypass sequence that had been used at the gate, identifying himself as the eldest son of Benton Quest and stating his title as a Scientific Research Technician with Quest Enterprises. When the door opened he disappeared inside and the four men moved to follow him through.

"STOP!" Jonny snapped sharply, the laser rifle coming to bear on them. "You move only when told to." The four men stopped and they all exchanged grim looks.

Finally, Hadji returned to the door and gestured at them, saying, "Alright, you may enter. Admiral Bennett, you are to lead the way, then Commander Barclay, Dr. Wolenchek, and Mr. Leeds last. Move directly through the house to the study . . . you know where it is, Admiral. When you reach the door, stop. We will be directly behind you." As the men moved forward in the designated order, Hadji stepped back and to one side, allowing them to pass into the house. Following their instructions carefully, Bennett led the group through the downstairs corridors of the main house directly to the door of Benton Quest's study. When all of them reached the study door, Hadji said quietly into his microphone, "We have arrived, Father." In the tomb-like silence of the house, the click of the automatic lock on the study door could be clearly heard.

"Open the door and enter," Jonny commanded. Bennett did so and stepped into the study. The room into which they entered was huge. To their left, the men could see a large, flat work table about eight feet square. Across from this, on the opposite side of the room, was a space that was normally a reading area with chairs and area lights. However, four of those chairs had been moved and were now lined up directly in front of a huge, gleaming desk of some dark wood, which sat facing the door on the far side of the room. The room was vaulted, reaching upward two full stories, and a huge window that looked out across the property toward the sea, filled much of the wall behind the desk. A flat panel video monitor screen was visible on the wall immediately to the right of the door as they entered.

Two pictures hung in the room. The first was a large watercolor of a tropical island that hung near the desk on the left-hand wall. The other was a full-length oil portrait of a beautiful blonde woman with blue eyes that hung in the reading area. She sat easily in a chair and on the floor beside her was a young child with the same shining gold hair. Both of them were smiling. The portrait had its own lighting and was displayed such that it attracted immediate attention. Bennett could feel the three men with him pause as it caught their attention. He knew the way they felt. No matter how many times he had been in this room, he still felt the impact of that picture. Rachel Wildey Quest had always had that effect on people.

The rest of the wallspace in the room, ceiling to floor, was lined with bookshelves and storage cabinets composed of the same, rich wood as the desk. A second floor mezzanine with a wrought iron railing circled the room, providing access to the books and cabinets on the upper level of the room. Near the large window, a spiraling staircase of the same wrought iron connected it to the first floor.

"Sit down," Jonny said, indicating the four chairs, and the men moved to comply. Once they were seated, Jonny and Hadji moved to either side of the desk and stood flanking their father.

Benton Quest sat like a statue behind the desk, staring at the four visitors with dark, stormy eyes. Behind him, silhouetted against the window, was Race Bannon. His back was turned and he stared out of the window, as if ignoring their visitors. Everyone was silent for a long moment.

Finally, Admiral Bennett said, "Are the weapons really necessary, Dr. Quest?"

"I don't know, Admiral. You tell me." Bennett could hear the same fury in Quest's voice that he had heard earlier, however it now appeared to be more firmly in check.

Bennett leaned forward and said earnestly, "I assure you, Dr. Quest, that they aren't. I swear to you, no one in this room would ever have ordered an attack on anyone in your family."

"And what about your people outside this room, Admiral? Can you swear that oath as firmly?" Bennett was silent. "I thought not."

Bennett tried again. "Dr. Quest, this attack was not the work of anyone in the government. I won't lie and say that there haven't been people who have voiced concern, but this was _not_ our doing." Bennett looked past Benton to where Race Bannon still stood staring out the window. "Race . . . we don't know . . . is Dr. Velasquez . . . Estella . . . was she hurt in the attack?"

Race turned and moved up slowly to stand beside Benton. The two men exchanged an unreadable look, but before either could answer, there was a knock on the door and Estella walked in. She was dressed in blue jeans and a soft brown sweater. "Benton, is Race in . . . oh!" She stopped and looked briefly embarrassed. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't realize you had guests."

Bennett shot to his feet and turned swiftly, "Dr. Velasquez!" Before anyone could move, Bennett strode across the room, holding his hands out to the woman. "Thank God you're safe!"

Estella smiled at the man in surprise, and took his proffered hands. "Admiral Bennett, isn't it? It's been a long time."

Bennett examined the woman closely, relieved to note that she did not appear to be seriously hurt. There was a darkening bruise on one cheek and her forearms, visible below the pushed up sleeves of her sweater, showed a collection of small cuts and scrapes. There was also a large white bandage on one arm. "Yes, it's been a few years," he replied.

Behind him, Estella noticed that everyone else had risen, and that Race was rounding the desk hastily. Her smiled dimmed when she spotted the guns that Jonny and Hadji held. "Is there a problem? Race . . ." Race reached out and, catching her hands out of Bennett's grasp, he carefully positioned himself between the two of them.

"No problem, Stel," he assured her. "Admiral Bennett and his people are just here to discuss what happened last night, that's all." He tried to turn her back toward the door, but Estella slipped from his grasp and turned back to Bennett.

"It's nice of you to be willing to help, Admiral." She looked over the other men in the room. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your co-workers."

Bennett hesitated fractionally, looking at Bannon. He didn't miss the look of helplessness that flashed across Race's face. It occurred to Bennett that Estella Velasquez probably hadn't changed much over the intervening years.

"Then please, allow me to introduce you." He presented Barclay first and then Wolenchek. Estella smiled at the scientist and said,

"I found your work on advanced systems of dating via cosmic tracking markers extremely interesting, Doctor. If we are able to find the time, I'd be interested in discussing your theories in relation to some research work I'm currently involved in."

Dr. Wolenchek sketched a slight bow. "I would enjoy that very much, Dr. Velasquez. We will have to make it a point."

Estella turned to the fourth man with a smile and said, "And you?" Beside her, Estella could feel Race stiffen sharply and Bennett hesitated. Into the brief silence, the man stepped forward and offered his hand.

"Connor Leeds of I-1."

The smile on Estella's face vanished. She took a deliberate step backward as Race's arm came around her. "What is he doing here?" she asked sharply.

Bennett stepped between the two of them and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Dr. Velasquez. I brought him. Mr. Leeds has been involved with this business from the beginning and I felt it was important that he was available to answer Dr. Quest's questions concerning this entire affair."

"He wasn't invited here, Stel," Race assured her.

Estella shook Race's arm off and reaching out, she shoved Bennett out of the way so she was again facing the man directly. Her hands clenched into fists and her skin darkened as she began advancing on him slowly.

"Was this your doing?" Her voice rose sharply. Race grabbed at her arm, muttering her name in a placating tone, but she shook off his hand.

_"Did you set him up as a target knowing they'd try for him?"_ Bennett exchanged a concerned look with Race as Benton hastily moved to come around the desk. But it was too late. With a sudden, swift move Estella launched herself at Leeds, screaming in fury,

_**"DID YOU ALMOST GET HIM KILLED AGAIN, YOU BASTARD???"**_ She lashed out with a fist and struck Leeds full in the face. Bennett and Barclay leaped forward and grabbed Leeds, holding him tightly, as Race snatched Estella and swung her around, putting his body protectively between her and her target. Estella struggled desperately, straining to renew her mindless attack, but Race held her securely, speaking in a low tone none of them could hear as he drew her further from the group of men standing nearby. He pinned her tightly against his chest, one arm around her waist while the other hand pressed her head into his shoulder. As quickly as it flared, her rage dissipated and she went limp. She clutched his shirt in her hands and began to cry in soft, wracking sobs.

Nearby, Bennett and Barclay held Leeds in a firm grip, but the man stood quietly, making no move to retaliate. Into the heavy silence, he said, "Dr. Velasquez, maybe in the past I have done things that have put him at risk, but I swear to you . . . I had nothing to do with the attack on the two of you yesterday." Shaking his arm loose from Bennett's grasp, he reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It came away bloody. "I swear I didn't," he repeated.

Without looking back or acknowledging his words, Race reached down and picked Estella up in his arms, cradling her gently. He shot a lightning-quick look to Jonny who moved swiftly to the door and opened it for him. Without another word, Race left the room, taking Estella with him. Jonny shut the door again and turned, leaning against it.

Everyone remained frozen in place for a moment longer. Then Benton turned and gestured at the four men. "Sit down," he ordered as he moved to return to his chair. Bennett and Barclay released Leeds and the four men again sat down. Benton gazed around the room with an unreadable expression and, after a moment, he said, "Jonny . . . Hadji, I don't think the weapons will be needed. Put them away." Both young men powered down their laser rifles and pulled the power packs. Hadji took the rifle from Jonny and then left the room. Jonny remained standing by the door.

Benton contemplated his guests for a moment, then finally commented, "You are either much braver or much more stupid than I assumed you were, Admiral."

Bennett returned the look quizzically. "Why do you say that, Dr. Quest?"

"You honestly didn't know whether Estella was alive?"

Bennett shook his head. "No, we didn't. Details about the attack are extremely sketchy. We knew Bannon had survived and that there were three people dead, but we didn't know their identities."

"Stupid, Admiral," Benton said, sitting back in his chair. "Very, very stupid. I don't know if I could have kept any of you alive if Estella had died." Benton looked directly at Leeds. "Particularly you."

"I had nothing to do with it," Leeds insisted again.

"Maybe not. But I'm not sure Race would have been rational enough to make that distinction."

Leeds turned and looked back at the door. "I can understand that," he replied after a long minute. "He's a lucky man." Sitting back and rubbing his jaw gently, he said wryly, "She's got a mean right cross."

Benton glanced up as the door opened again and Hadji walked back in, followed closely by both Jessie and Kefira. Jonny and Jessie exchanged looks and some unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. As Hadji moved forward to return to Benton's side, Jonny followed and Jessie and Kefira took up positions on either side of the door. None of them said a word.

"So now what, Dr. Quest?" Bennett asked directly. "You wanted us here, and we came. What's next?"

"Next, Admiral, are answers. I will tolerate no more hedging. Whether you instigated the attack on Race and Estella or not, your actions over the past week or so have put my family at considerable risk and that is going to stop."

Bennett sighed. "Unfortunately, even if I tell you what's going on, it's not going to end the risk to you or your family. That has nothing to do with us."

Benton contemplated the men across from him briefly, and then said flatly, "It has to do with work on immersive VR systems."

Wolenchek sat forward abruptly, "How did you know that?" he demanded.

Benton smiled grimly. "Admiral Bennett was way too interested in that subject the last time he was here. There was an underlying urgency that went far beyond budgetary constraints for the training of soldiers. And he was suddenly, extraordinarily concerned for my safety, even though he is well aware of the defensive capabilities of this facility. All of that led me to believe that something was up." Abruptly, his smile disappeared. "However, I did consider him enough of a friend that I didn't expect him to leave us out on a limb and open to the kind of attack that occurred last night."

Behind them, the door to the study opened and Race came back into the room. He closed the door, noting the two additions to the people in the room without comment. As he crossed to the desk, Benton said to him, "Pull up a chair and sit down, Race. How is Estella?"

"She's resting," he replied as he sat down. "Mrs. Evans is with her. She's still exhausted." Race looked across at Leeds. "She's been under a lot of stress," he commented, as if in oblique apology. After a moment, he added, "I appreciate your restraint." Leeds simply nodded. "What have I missed?"

Benton looked again at Bennett. "The Admiral was just about to explain what's been going on here."

Bennett nodded. "Let me preface this by saying that I would have come to you immediately if I hadn't been under direct orders not to do so," Bennett said. "It was my opinion that you should have been brought in on this situation from the beginning, but decision was overridden at a higher level."

"By Niemeyer," Race said flatly. Bennett nodded.

"So the instructions came from the President," Benton said thoughtfully.

Bennett frowned slightly, "That has been the assumption. But in the last 24 hours or so I've begun to wonder."

Race and Benton didn't miss the sudden look of surprise that Barclay and Leeds shot their superior.

"Why don't you start by telling us what's been going on," Benton suggested, "and we'll go from there."

"One question, Admiral," Race interrupted. "Have your orders changed in any way?"

"No."

"So you're violating a direct order by being here."

"Yes."

"And the troops waiting back in Rockport?"

Bennett grimaced. "So you know about those, too. Yes, those are against orders, as well."

"You had to know that I would never have allowed them in here, Admiral." Benton said grimly.

"I know. I didn't bring them with the intention of trying to put them in here. I am hoping you will allow me to disperse them in the forest on your outer perimeter. It will add an additional buffer zone between the facility and any possible attackers."

Benton's face darkened ominously and in a tightly controlled voice, he replied, "You know what happened the last time I allowed someone to talk me into an action of that sort."

"Yes, Dr. Quest, I know, but . . ."

"I will not allow what happened to my wife to occur again!"

"Please, Dr. Quest," Bennett exclaimed desperately, ". . . Benton . . . I know what happened to Mrs. Quest was tragic, but it was an accident! And to put your family at added risk now because of an incident that occurred almost twelve years ago simply doesn't make good sense."

"An _accident???_" Benton said tightly. Then his voice rose sharply. "One of your trigger-happy soldiers shot my wife and you call it an _**accident??????**_" Both Jonny and Hadji stepped forward, pressing Benton back into his chair as he attempted to rise.

"Please, Father, now is not the time," Hadji urged him.

But it was Jonny who caught his eyes and stopped him mid-tirade. He pressed his hand to his father's shoulder and said in a voice that was deep and intense, "Dad, this is _not_ what Mom would want. You know the kid that shot her didn't mean to do it. I was there . . . I-I remember him . . ." Jonny's voice trailed off as traces of the grief and horror that had lingered over the years were suddenly reflected in his face. "He knelt beside her and cried like a baby," he continued in a choked voice. " . . . he begged her not to die . . . I-I remember she opened her eyes and smiled at him . . ." Benton put his face in his hands and they could all see his shoulders shaking. Father and son remained frozen, remembered grief overpowering them.

Bennett hesitated for a moment, then rose, gesturing his companions to do the same. He jerked his head at the door, signaling Race of his desire to step outside. Race nodded, and with a quick squeeze of Hadji's shoulder, he moved to lead the four men from the room. Jessie opened the door as they approached and both she and Kefira followed them through, closing the study door softly behind them. Race hesitated for an instant, and then gestured up the hallway toward the front of the house. "We'll wait in family room."

They all moved to the front of the house, but when they reached the door to the family room, Jessie and Kefira stopped.

"I'm going to check on Mom," Jess said and turned away to retrace her steps toward the Bannon living suite.

"And I will get refreshments," Kefira added. "Will coffee be satisfactory?" Everyone nodded and she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Bennett and his companions sat down to wait, however Race prowled restlessly. Finally, Wolenchek asked tentatively, "Is it true? Did one of our own people kill Rachel Quest?"

Race shot the man a swift glance, but didn't answer. It was Bennett who replied, "Yes. It's true. She was killed by a 19-year-old kid who had been pinned down not far from her during a terrorist attack on the Quest's Palm Key residence." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as though his head ached. Then he sighed and continued heavily. "It was the first time the boy had ever faced combat. We'd gotten reports of a planned attack on Dr. Quest. He was working for the government at the time, and he had been convinced . . . forced, actually . . . to accept military personnel in the Compound as security. Jonny had been in the house and Dr. Quest had been in his lab when the attackers struck, but Mrs. Quest was out on the grounds. We'd been prepared and the fighting didn't last long. It was almost over . . . the attackers had been routed and were fleeing when it happened. Jonny had managed to get away from the officer who was charged with watching him. He'd erupted out of the house, calling for his mother. No one knows why, but one of the fleeing attackers turned back to shoot the boy and the young soldier spotted him. He was carrying a submachine gun and opened up on the man. Unfortunately, Mrs. Quest had seen Jonny exit the house and she broke from cover, attempting to reach her son. She ran directly into the line of fire. There was nothing anyone could do. When Dr. Quest reached the scene, the soldier was kneeling beside her, trying to do what he could, and Jonny was crouched on the ground beside her, screaming. Her last words were for the young man who shot her . . . _'not your fault'_ . . . and then she died in Benton Quest's arms."

The silence in the room was absolute. Even Race stopped his pacing, staring at the floor. Finally, Leeds said softly, "No wonder the man hates government personnel."

"He survived," Race said distantly, resuming his restless movement, "but he's never forgotten."

"Or fully recovered," Wolenchek said sadly.

"No."

"I understand," Wolenchek agreed. "She was a hard woman to forget."

Race looked at him in surprise. "You knew them?"

Wolenchek shook his head. "No, I knew _her_ . . . a long time ago . . . before she ever met Benton Quest."

Bennett looked at Wolenchek in surprise. "I never knew that."

"It was a long time ago," he repeated.

Kefira came in carrying a tray with a pot and coffee cups. She poured the coffee and served it, moving quietly and gracefully around the room. As she served Bennett, he thanked her and said, "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."

She straightened and met his eyes steadily. "No, we have not," she replied stiffly, and then moved away without saying anything else. Bennett looked over at Race in consternation and saw a smile flicker. Kefira turned to Race and said, "I will go and check on Jessie and Estella now."

Race nodded and said, "I'd appreciate that." She turned and strode out of the room, her back ramrod straight and head high. Race watched her go, and then turned back to Bennett with thinly veiled amusement. "I don't think she likes you, Admiral."

"Who is she? I'm surprised to see a stranger here just now."

"She isn't a stranger. She's family."

Race saw realization dawn. "Mr. Singh's fiancée?"

"Yes."

"Gentlemen." Everyone turned to see Hadji in the doorway. "My father asks that you join us once more." They all followed Hadji back to the study. As they entered, they saw that Benton still sat in the large chair behind the desk with Jonny behind and to his left.

_Like a sentinel,_ Bennett thought to himself, _or a guardian angel._ As the government men took their seats once again, Hadji moved back to Benton Quest. As naturally as if he had been born there, the young man took up his position to Benton's right. _No,_ Bennett corrected himself, _a matched pair._ He was suddenly struck by how much these two young men had changed since the last time he'd really noticed them. Both were tall, Hadji close to six feet and Jonny one or two inches taller. Jonny had filled out, Bennett noticed, having the same broad, muscular shoulders and narrow hips as his father. Hadji had a more slender build, but a sense of competence and quiet strength seemed to radiate from him. _A pair to be reckoned with,_ Bennett thought.

"I must apologize for my behavior, gentlemen. It was . . . unacceptable." Benton said in way of greeting.

Bennett looked closely at the man in front of him and recognized the signs of exhaustion. It occurred to him that Benton Quest probably had not slept in a very long time. "No apologizes are necessary, Dr. Quest. I understand completely. It does not change the situation, however. I hate to push the issue, but . . ."

"Admiral, my sons have convinced me not to dismiss the offer out of hand, but neither am I convinced that I am going to allow it. We'll start with an explanation of the situation that forces you to feel they are necessary and go from there."

With a nod, Bennett began to tell them about the rumors of the weapons dealer that was searching for only for the most cutting edge of technology, the placement of a mole in the man's organization, the video footage they managed to obtain of the test of the weapon, and their conclusions on the weapon's weak points. Benton listened quietly, asking no questions. When Bennett finally came to a stop, Benton considered what he had been told for a long time.

"Yes, I can see where you would be concerned," Benton finally replied. "That kind of a weapon would be extremely dangerous." He glanced over at Isaac Wolenchek and said heavily, "This is Victor Payson's work, isn't it?"

Wolenchek nodded. "We think so. At least it looks like the prototype of the funding proposal I saw about a year ago."

"What does Payson say?"

"Nothing," Barclay replied. "He's dead."

"Are we correct in our guess that you've solved these problems, Dr. Quest? And that you could make this weapon work?" Bennett asked directly.

Rather than answering his question, Benton replied with one of his own. "But that's not all of it, is it Admiral? This is the point you were at when you came to see me a week ago. Something has happened since that has made it more urgent. What is that?"

Bennett hesitated and before he could answer, there was a sharp knock on the door and it opened to admit Jessie and Kefira. Without a word, both young women walked across the room and took up positions beside Jonny and Hadji. When Jessie saw Bennett hesitate, she said evenly, "Don't mind us, Admiral. Please go on." When Benton nodded, Bennett explained their concern about Baxter and his organization and their fear that he had begun to search for another scientist to complete the work.

"Jonny?" Jessie asked suddenly, looking closely at the young man next to her. Benton leaned his head back and gazed up at his younger son with a questioning look.

Jonny frowned, staring hard at the floor in concentration. "I . . . I know that name . . . from somewhere. I've heard it . . . "

"Perhaps your father . . ." Bennett began, but Race held up his hand imperatively and waved him to silence.

"Relax, Jonny," Race said softly. "Let it surface . . . "

Everyone watched as the young man breathed deeply, closing his eyes in an effort to allow the memory to surface. After a moment, he shook his head and opened his eyes again. "It's gone. But I know I've heard that name before . . . and not in the context of any discussion of my father's. This has a bad taste to it."

"Then let it go," Race advised, "and eventually it will come back to you." Jonny nodded.

Jonny looked at Bennett. "Pardon me. Please go on."

Bennett hesitated, but it was Leeds that took up the narrative, explaining about the slaughter at Brattleford Prison and the suspected release of Jeremiah Surd.

"We're relatively certain some form of nerve gas must have been used," Barclay added, "but we have no clue what it is. It was like nothing anyone has ever seen before. Its effects were both swift and devastating."

"What kind of total cycle?" Race asked.

"As close as we can tell, death to total decomposition of the victim in less than 12 hours."

"Jesus!" Race murmured.

"And if Surd can get that weapon working, we have serious trouble," Bennett said in conclusion.

"He can't," Jonny said. "The man is catatonic . . . totally unable to communicate. He's not going to be doing any weapons research."

"We know he was when he was removed from the prison, but Baxter can bring the best doctors to bear on the problem. There's a chance they can bring him out of it, but no one knows what caused it in the first place."

Jessie Bannon turned abruptly from the group and walked back to the window to stare out over the snow-covered landscape. There was an awkward silence and then Benton replied, "I don't think you need to worry . . . "

"They won't wake him up," Jessie said flatly turning back to stare at Bennett.

"Yes, well Ms. Bannon, I'm sure we all hope that's so, but . . ." He fell abruptly silent at the look in her eyes. It was cold, flat, and extremely final. It reminded Bennett sharply of Race at his most deadly.

"He won't wake up. Not without my knowing it." She stared at him coldly for a long moment before adding in a softly menacing tone, "No one messes with my family."

Before anyone could think of anything else to say, they were interrupted once more by a knock on the door. It opened again and Estella entered. Race started to rise, but Estella shook her head. "It's alright, Race. I was just looking for Jessie." She looked at Benton. "If you don't need her right now, I was hoping she could help me make some phone calls."

"Certainly," Benton replied readily. "Whatever you need." He glanced at his watch and then looked back at her with a trace of concern. "Isn't it about time for you to leave? It's close to 10:00."

Estella hesitated and her eyes fell. "That's what I need Jessie for. I-I'm going to call and postpone."

Benton shot to his feet and crossed the room to her swiftly. Taking her hands, he looked at her seriously. "Why?"

"What else can we do? There is no way to maintain sufficient security. You wouldn't be safe. None of us would. They've already tried for Race once. Who will they try for next? But I want you there . . . I want all of us there."

"Do you want to postpone, Estella? All else aside, do you want to put it off?" Benton asked her gently.

Her answer was barely audible. "No."

Benton turned to Race, who had come up and put his arm around Estella. "Do you, Race?"

"No."

He smiled at Estella then tilted her head up so she had to look at him. "Then we go on as planned."

"But how can we, Benton? There's the church and then the hotel for the banquet and reception. There is simply no possible way to ensure that all of us are safe. And even if we could do that, an attack would put our friends in town at risk. How can we possibly allow that?" Estella protested.

Benton shook his head. "We gamble that they haven't had the time to set up anything elaborate enough. Race is convinced that the attack last night was opportunistic and I tend to agree with him. The longer we wait the more time they have to prepare. And if anything, having me in the midst of it all makes our friends that much safer. They don't want me dead . . . they want me in hand and cooperative. And they have to know that they won't get that if they commit wholesale slaughter." Then he smiled at her gently. "Furthermore, I won't be turned into a recluse, Estella."

"But . . ."

"No buts. I want to see the two of you married again, and Jessie has worked too long and too hard to cancel now."

"Dr. Velasquez." The three of them turned to see Leeds standing an arm's reach away. Estella's expression tightened, and the two men with her tensed. But Leeds didn't back off. "Dr. Velasquez, please." He took a deep breath and his gaze fell for a fraction of an instant before her hard stare. Then it returned to her firmly and he said slowly, "Earlier, you asked if I had deliberately set Race up to get him killed, and I assured you that I hadn't. I swear that's the truth. But you were right in one respect. In the past, there have been times when I tried to use him for my own purposes." Estella's body was rigid and she just stood, staring at the man in front of her. "I'll offer you no excuses for that behavior . . . there are none good enough . . . particularly for the woman who loves him. But Dr. Velasquez, I'm not a monster. I wish the two of you only the best." A trace of bitterness entered his voice as he said, "God knows, few of us in this business every find any kind of peace . . . let alone the kind Race seems to have found with you . . . and who am I to begrudge him that." He took a deep breath and, in an intense voice, said, "Let me at least try to make amends for some of the things I've done. We brought manpower with us . . . men we had hoped to place around the perimeter of this compound to help guarantee its safety. Please, let us use these men to help insure that your wedding is safe and undisturbed." He saw the denial in her eyes and hastened to add, "I promise you, these people are good . . . the very best. They will be invisible . . . you won't even notice them. But they will make certain that you, your family, and your friends will be free to give this occasion the undivided attention it deserves. Admiral Bennett, Commander Barclay and I will see to it." For a long time, Estella stared at the man without responding. Finally, she looked up at Race with a question in her eyes.

"Your choice, sweetheart. I'll go with whatever you want." He flicked a quick glance at Leeds. "But for whatever it's worth, I think he's being straight with you."

"Benton? I know your feelings about military personnel as protection for your family."

"I know," he sighed. "But I'm not going to object to this. I don't want anything happening to spoil your wedding and I'll agree to it to insure its safety."

Estella's gaze returned to Leeds. "Very well, Mr. Leeds, I accept your offer." Her gaze turned to the men still standing back by the desk. "The guest list for the wedding itself and the dinner that follows is a small one and I'd ask that you join us for those." Her gaze returned to Leeds as she added, "All four of you." They all nodded. "The reception is a different matter. It's an open affair for all of our friends and acquaintances. It's designed for people to come and go at will."

Barclay nodded and said, "Then with your permission, Admiral Bennett and I will stay with you at the reception and Mr. Leeds will coordinate with our people outside. All you need do is let us know if you spot someone you don't know or feel uncomfortable with." Barclay looked over at Benton. "Dr. Quest, would you be able to provide us with inconspicuous communication equipment?"

Benton nodded. "I have something that will work."

"Then I believe that is all we'll need."

Estella nodded slowly, then looked at Leeds again. This time, the look she gave him was not as cold as before. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Leeds. I appreciate it."

"It truly is my pleasure, doctor."

Estella looked up at Race. "In that case, I need to go or I'll never be dressed in time."

He smiled down at her tenderly and replied, "Go get your stuff, and Jessie and Kefira will be along in a minute." She nodded and with a departing smile, she left the room.

Race stood, looking after her for a long minute, before he turned and said, "Jessica."

"Yes, sir," she replied, stepping forward.

"Stick close to your mother. I don't expect anything to happen, but don't let your guard down." He moved around behind Benton's desk and did something none of them could see. Then both, father and daughter turned toward the island painting on the nearby wall. Race reached out and grasped the picture by the base of the frame and pulled. It swung back, revealing a wall-mounted case concealed behind it. The case contained a variety of small, partially disassembled hand weapons. He stepped back and gestured to his daughter. She moved up and surveyed the contents.

From behind her, Benton said quietly, "I'd prefer the prototypes don't leave the Compound."

"Yes, sir," she repeated, and selected the stripped down base of a Glock 19 self-loading pistol. Without hesitation, she gathered the appropriate pieces from the case and assembled the weapon neatly. As she did so, Kefira stepped up and reached in, taking the base of an HK USP 9 mm pistol. With the same precision, she assembled the weapon. Race watched her closely, but without comment. Before loading it, she stepped to one side and brought the gun up in a steady, two-handed grip and sighted down the barrel toward the window. After a moment, she nodded to herself, as though satisfied, and turned back to find Jessie holding two ammunition clips and a webbed nylon shoulder holster out to her. Both young women shrugged into the holsters, snapped an ammunition clip into their pistols and seated them securely in the holsters. Then Jessie looked up at her father and said, "Nothing will happen to Mom." With a quick smile, both of them turned and left the room.

There was a brief silence as Race closed the weapons case and turned back to the others.

"Well," Barclay said, after a moment, as though at a loss for words.

"You seem to have them well trained, Race," Bennett added dryly.

"They know how to defend themselves," Race said noncommittally. He shot a swift look at Hadji, but the young man's face was expressionless. He took a deep breath and asked, "So, gentlemen, what's the plan?" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
In the hall outside the study, Jessie commented, "You're pretty good with that gun." 

Kefira glanced at her as they moved quickly up the hallway toward the staircase to the second floor. "Yes. I was required to learn when I was still very small."

"Really? Who taught you?"

"My father. He taught all of us." Seeing the surprised look on Jessie's face, she explained. "My home is high in the mountains. We come from an outlying province a long way from Bangalore City. The countryside surrounding our house is remote and much of it is still very wild. Both animals and roving bandits can be a danger." She smiled wistfully. "I am coming to realize that I will miss it very much while I am gone. Anyway, Sumant was always interested in the wildlife and nothing father could do would prevent him from going outside. When he was about ten, he had gone outside with Daria, and they were almost killed by a leopard. If father had not come along, they both probably would have died. After that, Father taught him how to shoot and required that if he was going to go outside of the walls of the outer courtyard, that he had to go armed. As we grew up, he required it of the rest of us as well." She laughed a bit ruefully. "I do not believe that any of us ever killed anything, other than snakes perhaps, but the guns were always good for scaring away the larger animals." She looked at Jessie again and a worried frown crossed her face. "I am very sorry. I did not even think about it when I took the gun. It seemed the natural thing to do if we are to protect your mother. Perhaps I should have asked Mr. Bannon before I did so."

Jessie laughed. "Don't worry. If my dad didn't think you could handle it, he never would have let you take it. Come on, we better hurry. Do you have a jacket or something that will fit over that shoulder holster?"

"I do not think so, but I can leave my coat on if necessary."

"Naw. You're my size and I'm sure I've got something that will fit. Come on, let's go see what we can find."

"There is no way we will be able to wear these with our dresses for the wedding," Kefira pointed out.

"I've got an idea on that, too. Come on . . ." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
It was about half an hour later that Race and Connor Leeds stepped out of the study and headed up the hallway toward the kitchen. 

Leeds rubbed the back of his neck and commented, "I could really use a cup of coffee. This day started way too early."

"Tell me about it. And that's on top of yesterday ending way too late." They were quiet as they moved into the front of the house. As they neared the family room door, they heard a voice. It was low and intense.

"You _will_ be careful."

"That sounds like an order." There was laughter underlying the reply, as well as an intimacy that brought both men to a stop in the doorway.

"Damned right," Jonny Quest replied. As Race and Leeds watched, the young man pulled Jessie into his arms and pressed her body tightly against his own. She went to him willingly, twining her arms around his neck, as one of his hands caught the nape of her neck and brought her lips to his. As the kiss deepened, her arms slipped from around his neck and slid down his sides in a sensual caress. She moaned softly and pulled him more tightly against her, as one of Jonny's hands slid up and began to stroke her back.

Race turned sharply, shoving Leeds, and both men moved away silently. As they entered the kitchen, Leeds looked over his shoulder at Race, grinning. "And you were commending me on _my_ restraint? How do you deal with that?"

"Jonny's a good kid . . . and she loves him."

"Yeah, but still . . . "

Race shrugged as he pulled a couple of mugs out of a nearby cabinet. "Most of the time, I try not to think too closely about it. They make it a point to be discreet, so it's not often that I'm faced with scenes like that one."

"You have any idea if they've . . ."

"No, I don't," Race replied shortly, "and I don't want to know, either. Just drop it, okay?"

Leeds nodded, knowing when to back off. He took a sip of the coffee and dropped wearily into a nearby chair while Race rummaged around in the refrigerator. After a moment, Leeds commented,

"I'm still bothered by the business with Jeremiah Surd. How can your daughter be so certain that he's not going to come out of whatever catatonic state he's in?"

Race tossed Leeds an apple and sat down, biting into one himself. Then he shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll take her word for it. She put him in that state, so I'm willing to assume that she knows what she's talking about."

Leeds stopped, the apple halfway to his mouth. "She what? How did she do that?"

"I have no idea. All I know is that Surd attacked Jessie and she fought back. It was a mind control game of some sort or the other. In the end, Jess ended up free and Surd ended up catatonic. What she did or how she did it, I don't know and I don't ask."

"You weren't there?" The disbelief in Leeds voice was clear.

"I was dealing with Surd's lackeys. Jonny and Benton were with her at the time it occurred."

"So then, they know what happened. You can't tell me you didn't ask them. What did they say?"

Race looked over at the man in irritation. "I told you . . . I _didn't_ ask. I didn't feel it was necessary to know. I trust Jonny and Benton. By the time I rejoined them, it was over, my daughter was safe, and they all assured me that Surd wouldn't be a threat any longer. I saw the man in person, and I knew what kind of state he was in, so I wasn't inclined to doubt them."

"You've certainly become a trusting soul over the last several years," Leeds commented with an edge of sarcasm.

Race gave Leeds a cold, meaningful look and replied, "Depends on who we're talking about trusting, now doesn't it?" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Unspecified Location**

"Do you have any idea how much of a mess you've made of all of this?" Edgerton asked in cold fury. "I _told_ you that you wouldn't be able to take down anyone in the Quest family easily. Now you've warned them and if we do end up having to take Benton Quest, we'll have a hell of a time getting anywhere near the man!" 

"The opportunity was there," Baxter replied with an indifferent shrug. "If we'd been able to take out Bannon, getting to Quest would have been easy. So the attempt failed . . . it doesn't concern me. It was worth a try. And the men who botched the attempt are dead now, so we don't need to worry about the attempt being traced back here. Quest has enough enemies. Who's to know which one tried to take out his head of security?"

Edgerton gritted his teeth in silence. Baxter was in a funny mood today . . . mellow and easy going. That usually meant one of two things . . . either he had something very nasty in mind for someone or else he'd just accomplished something that he thought would benefit him a great deal. Edgerton had gotten no hints of either one of those two things happening so he was highly suspicious of his employer's convivial mood. Changing the subject, he said,

"No one is having any luck with Surd. The man is little more than a giant turnip. If something can't be done to bring him out of whatever state he's in, he'll be of no use to us."

That statement caused Baxter to sit forward and frown. "I thought you were so sure he could be brought around."

Edgerton shook his head. "It _should_ be. He's not brain dead by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, his brain activity is all but hyperactive. But he can't seem to make that connection between the inner thinking process and the outside world. The doctors are running out of ideas."

A slow flush began to build in Baxter's pale skin. "I don't accept that. I won't. You said he could get that weapon working . . . "

"I said he'd have the knowledge to get it working. No one told me that the man was in this state. I have one last thing to try when it comes to Surd. If that doesn't work, then we are looking at _having_ to take Quest. Why do you think I'm so upset over the fiasco with Bannon? We're working under time constraints. The government knows about this project. There's been no trace of another plant in our organization, but that's not to say there isn't one here. We don't have time to wait six months for Quest to relax his guard again. We'll have to go up against everything he's got and hope we can win. In my estimation, we'll be lucky if we've got a 50/50 chance of success, even if we throw every resource at them."

"I told you that I don't care what it takes!" Baxter thundered, his volatile mood doing a complete reversal. He beat on the table in front of him with a fist and all but screamed. "Get that weapon working!"

The buzz of an intercom interrupted them. Edgerton picked up the receiver on a nearby telephone and punched a button. "I said we weren't to be disturbed!" Even from his position on the other side of the large table, Baxter caught the sudden squawk of the man on the other end of the phone and Edgerton's sudden look of concern. Before either man could do anything, the door on the far side of the room burst open and the body of a man came sailing toward them. The man landed at Edgerton's feet in a limp heap, and a contemptuous female voice said,

"You're getting sloppy, Nathaniel. Is this the quality of help you're resorting to these days? I'm surprised you're still alive!" Baxter turned beet red and opened his mouth to scream, but before he had the chance, Edgerton replied calmly,

"Hello, Julia. It's been a long time." The woman who entered the room moved with a controlled grace reminiscent of some type of large hunting cat or bird of prey. She was of medium height and had bobbed auburn hair. She was strikingly lovely . . . until you looked in her eyes. They were dark and cynical and the cruelty reflected there made her beauty irrelevant. In the door behind her a man appeared. Tall and burly with blond hair and brown eyes, he almost seemed to lumber when he moved. But Edgerton knew that impression was dangerous. He had seen this man in action and he could be as deadly as his companion. Edgerton nodded to the man in the doorway. "Lorenzo."

"Hey, doc. Interesting place you've got here."

"Thank you, but it's not mine." Edgerton gestured to the apoplectic man standing behind the table. "It belongs to him. I just work here."

Julia snorted. "Hope you're nice and high up, lover, because if he keeps up like that, he'll keel over dead and you'll be in the position to take over by default."

Edgerton turned to his employer and gestured at the two newcomers. "Julia and Lorenzo Canova," he said economically. Turning back to the two his said, "Richard Elias Baxter . . . my boss."

"Howdy," Lorenzo said cordially. He flopped down into a nearby chair and commented, "Sure wouldn't mind something to eat."

"HOW . . . DID . . . YOU . . . GET . . . IN . . . HERE????"

Julia smiled, cat-like, as she prowled the room restlessly. "I followed your people back here." She looked over at Edgerton. "You really didn't think I was just going to sit there until you called, did you?"

Edgerton chuckled. "No. I wanted to see if you were still as good as you used to be. I can see that you are. How much damage did you do getting in?"

She flicked her hand negligently. "Not much. Destroyed a couple of your booby traps, bypassed a quadrant of your perimeter security, and broke a couple of locks. Oh, yeah, and Lorenzo eliminated a couple of your guards."

"How completely did he eliminate the guards?"

"Permanently."

Edgerton nodded calmly. "We'll have to get replacements for them. Anything else?"

She shrugged. "Hacked into your computer system to locate you in this maze." She thought about it for a minute. "I guess that's about it."

There was a sudden sharp sound and the three of them looked to see Baxter pointing a gun directly at Julia. "I do not like interlopers," he grated with a wild light in his eyes. "Give me one good reason not to kill you right now.

Julia walked over and sat down in a chair nonchalantly. Then she laughed low in her throat and replied, "Because if you do, you'll never be able to get Jeremiah to help you."

"He's worthless," Baxter snarled.

"Now," she agreed with a nod. "But I know what's wrong with him and I know how to bring him out of it." She sat forward suddenly, anger and determination lighting a fierce fire in her eyes. "I can give him to you. But there's a price."

"What price?" Baxter demanded

Julia smiled again and, this time, the three men in the room all felt a shiver run down their spines. "I have a debt to repay and I want the resources you've got here to help me settle up."

"Why should I help you settle an old score?" Baxter sneered. "What benefit is it to me?"

"Because," she purred, "the debt is with the Quests." She looked at Baxter and raised one eyebrow. "Do we have a deal?"

The flush faded from Baxter's face and, slowly, a nasty smile began to develop. The man settled back down into his chair, and in a complete reversal of mood yet again, he replied in a pleasant tone, "It's a deal." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
"Hold still, Mom! You're going to have this all over you if you don't stop squirming." 

"What are you _doing?_" Estella demanded, shifting again. "If you put any more of that stuff on me, my head is going to list to one side!" From behind them, Kefira snickered.

Jessie turned a mock scowl on her new friend. "Go ahead . . . laugh . . . at least people can see your eyelashes. Ours are so light they might just as well not exist!"

"I did not say a thing," Kefira replied. Then she looked around and asked plaintively, "Has anyone seen my nylons? I cannot find them anywhere. I am just certain we brought them . . ."

"Try the box next to the bouquets," Estella suggested. "I'm sure I saw you put them in one of the flower boxes. And Jessie, you haven't even started changing yet!"

"I will in a minute. I just want to finish this . . . "

"They are not here . . . " Kefira said in disgust, straightening up.

"They have to be around somewhere," Jessie said firmly, glancing up at her. She did a doubletake as she saw that the Indian girl stood there in little more than a pair of underwear and a strapless bra. "Aren't you freezing to death? It's cold in here."

Kefira looked a little surprised. "Not that I noticed." She shivered abruptly, and rapped her arms around herself, staring at Jessie with an accusing look. "At least I was not until you mentioned it!"

Estella ducked out of Jessie's grasp and picked up a robe. Tossing it at Kefira, she said, "Here, put this on. Hadji will never forgive me if you end up with pneumonia out of this whole thing. We have got to get the heat turned up in here!"

Jessie was routing through another box. "She's right! The nylons aren't here anywhere. Now what are we going to do? We don't have time to go back for them!"

Estella had gone over to the mirror and was peering at her reflection in horror. "Jessica, I can't get married looking like this! I look like I'm ready to go out and work the streets!"

"But, Mom . . ."

In the midst of the chaos, a sharp knock sounded on the door and it opened to reveal another woman. She was of medium height and had a slender build, with dark hair that was attractively dusted with silver. Her brown eyes were warm and friendly, and a calm serenity seemed to radiate from her in waves. As she surveyed the mess, her mouth twitched with repressed laughter. Holding out a box, she said, "Sorry I'm late. This was out on one of the pews. Does it belong in here?"

Kefira pounced on it. "Here they are!" she announced triumphantly, waving a package of nylons at the other two.

Estella looked at the woman with relief. "Barbara! Thank God. Look at me! What am I going to do . . . "

"Dr. Mason, I have your dress . . ."

"Can you . . ."

"Whoa! Wait . . . stop!" Barbara Mason held her hand up to stem the tide. "One thing at a time. There is still plenty of time. It's only about 2:15 and the wedding isn't scheduled until 4:00. Don't panic yet." She took off her coat and tossed it across a nearby chair and then looked around in surprise. "It's freezing in here! Why don't you turn up the heat?"

Jessie looked embarrassed. "We just realized it was cold, and I don't think any of us know where the thermostat is."

Estella looked chagrined. "I think we're all hopeless. And I don't even have a good excuse. I've been through this before."

Barbara laughed as she located the thermostat behind the various dresses hanging nearby. "I refuse to believe that having been through it once helps one bit when doing it a second time. It's always crazed." She turned back and looked at the three other women. "And let me ask you a totally mundane question . . . when was the last time any of you ate?" The three exchanged blank looks. "Uh huh, that's what I figured," Barbara replied. She crossed back to the door again and picked up a box that was sitting on the table right outside the door. Bringing it in, she cleared a space on the coffee table and set it down. Inside was a host of finger food including vegetable sticks, cheese and crackers, small rolled hors d'oeuvres, and an assortment of cookies and other sweets. She looked at her three companions and said dryly, "Compliments of Mrs. Evans. I think fainting due to low blood sugar on the way down the aisle probably wouldn't be a good idea. It's liable to send the wrong message to Race. Half an hour to sit down, relax, and eat a little something will be time well spent."

"But what about the . . ." Jessie started to protest.

"We still need to . . ." Kefira began at the same time.

"I have to do something about . . ." Estella joined in.

"All of it will wait," Barbara said firmly. "Now SIT!"

All of them sat down reluctantly and began to pick at the food. Estella popped one of the hors d'oeuvres into her mouth. "Oh, that's good," she commented. Then her eyes widened in surprise. "I'm _starved!_"

Barbara chuckled. "I thought you might be." She waggled a finger at all three of them. "Don't you know you aren't supposed to forget to eat???" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Quest Compound  
Enroute to Camden, Maine  
St. Margaret's Episcopal Church, Camden, Maine**

"Let's go, boys! We're going to be late!" Benton bellowed up the stairs at the Quest Compound. 

"We are trying!" Hadji's frustrated voice replied from above. "Jonny, where did you put my jacket?"

"I didn't have your jacket," came his brother's harassed reply.

"I had it in my hand when you came looking for your shirt."

"I haven't seen it. Did you look in your room? Damn!"

"Don't swear!" Benton admonished, but it was more of a reflex than a reprimand. Benton shot a resigned look at Bennett, Wolencheck and Leeds, who stood just inside the family room door observing the chaos. All three of them appeared ready to collapse into fits of laughter. The finely oiled team that had appeared so threatening just a few hours before, suddenly seemed to be falling apart in the face of the upcoming Bannon nuptials.

"Benton, I don't know what I did with the ring!" Race came charging out of the back of the house looking positively panic-stricken.

"I _looked_ in my room! It is not there." Hadji's half-frantic voice said.

"Well, try _my_ room, then!"

"I will never find it in there!"

Finally, it was too much and Admiral Bennett bent double, laughing hysterically. Benton grinned openly at the three men before turning and saying consolingly, "I have the ring, Race. You gave it to me to hold on to, remember? So you wouldn't lose it?" He eyed the younger man critically. "That looks very nice, but I think it might look better with trousers, don't you?" Race looked down past his white shirt, black vest, bow tie and formal jacket to his bare legs and uttered a very profane word before bolting toward the back of the house again.

Leeds was leaning against the wall gasping desperately for air as tears of laughter poured down his face. "This is . . . the second time . . . for him," he gasped. "You would . . . think . . . he'd be . . . better at it . . . this time."

Benton laughed. "The first time didn't count. They didn't have a formal wedding . . . just a civil ceremony in front of a judge. So this is their first try at a formal affair."

"Well, I'll give him credit for going whole hog this time," Leeds said, mopping his face with his handkerchief. "I don't think I would have done it in his position."

"Oh, he wouldn't have either if it had been his choice. No, this is all Jessie's doing and they're humoring her."

Suddenly, Jonny came clamoring down the stairs at break-neck speed. "Dad, I can't get this stupid thing right. Can you do it?"

"Jonny, it is NOT HERE! I must have that jacket!!!"

Isaac Wolenchek stepped forward with a grin. "Why don't you go up and help Mr. Singh find his jacket and I will take care of the tie. Hold still, young man, while I do this."

Jonny stood rigidly as Dr. Wolenchek untied the mess and started over. "Thanks." Jonny said. "I'm not very good with these things."

"They simply take practice," Wolenchek assured him. He surveyed the young man as he tied the tie deftly. The classic black tux and snowy white formal shirt were both beautifully cut and fit him to perfection. "I'm sure you'll improve." He settled the neatly tied bow tie onto the collar of the shirt, straightened the jacket across his shoulders and stepped back to survey the overall result. Jonny self-consciously tugged on the vest, positioning it more comfortably. Wolenchek nodded in approval. "Very nice."

"Yeah," Leeds agreed as he leaned against the door jam, surveying him. "That outfit should score you some points with Ms. Bannon."

Jonny looked at him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked somewhat stiffly.

Leeds glanced down the hallway and, lowering his voice, said, "Just take a word of advice, boyo . . . you need to be a bit more aware of your surroundings when the two of you get . . . involved. I suspect Race's tolerance will only extend just so far." Jonny flushed a deep crimson and looked down the hallway in concern.

"Surely he doesn't know about . . ." He cut the comment off sharply as he suddenly realized what he was saying, but the widening of Leeds' eyes and the sudden twitching grin was enough to tell Jonny that Leeds had make the leap.

"Very, _very_ aware of your surroundings," Leeds repeated wickedly.

"Hadji, come _on_," Jonny yelled, turning away from Leeds hastily. "We're gonna be late!"

Race came striding into the entryway just as Benton and Hadji came down the steps. All were now fully dressed. Race stared at Hadji in surprise, taking in his tux and neatly combed ponytail. "Looking sharp, Hadji, but what's with the tux? I figured you'd be wearing your Indian formalwear." "It would not have matched what the rest of you were wearing if I had done so."

"This isn't Jess' doing, is it?" Race asked, frowning. "She had no right to ask you to change for this affair."

"No, Race," Hadji protested swiftly. "Jessie would never do such a thing. In fact, she had assumed that Kefira and I would wear our traditional Indian garb. The decision to wear American formalwear was ours. I wanted to wear the tux and Kefira was extremely anxious to be able to wear the dress that Jessie had picked out for the wedding." He grinned slightly. "I think she is tired of wearing a sari all the time. She commented to me yesterday that she just loves blue jeans."

Before anyone could respond, IRIS interrupted.

"A VEHICLE HAS TURNED OFF OF THE HIGHWAY ONTO THE MAIN ACCESS ROAD TO THIS FACILITY."

"Can you determine the identity of the individual approaching the perimeter?"

"NOT FROM THIS DISTANCE."

"Then we'll wait here until we can," Race said flatly. The six men stood waiting tensely for long minutes. Finally, IRIS announced.

"COMMANDER ETHAN BARCLAY HAS APPROACHED THE MAIN GATE REQUESTING ADMITTANCE TO THIS FACILITY. UNDER CURRENT SECURITY STATUS, HE WILL NOT BE ALLOWED ACCESS. INSTRUCTIONS?"

"Inform him he is to wait there," Benton said. "We will join him at the gate shortly."

"CONFIRMED."

Bennett shot Benton an inscrutable look. Finally, he said, "So we still aren't to be trusted."

Shrugging into his coat, Benton gave the man a hard look. "I trust that you are telling me the truth at this moment, Admiral. But I understand politics well enough to know that that situation could change in the next five minutes. I trust you further than I can see you for the most part . . . but not with the lives of my family. I'll never be able to do that again. Rachel's death taught me that." The silence was uncomfortable as Benton Quest opened the door and left the house. The others followed him and they all climbed into one of the Quest vans. With Hadji at the wheel, they headed for the main gate. As they exited the safety of the Compound, Benton could feel the heightened sense of awareness sharpen in both Race and the government men. Hadji stopped the van near the nondescript white car that was once again sitting under the trees outside the gate. Commander Barclay stood beside the vehicle awaiting them. He crossed to the van as Hadji opened the window.

"The men are all in place. We've got 15 of them deployed in the area around the church. They won't be noticeable but they'll keep a close watch on the area. I've gotten pictures of all of the guests distributed to them, so they know who they can expect to see. The remainder are scoping out the area around the reception site. The men at the church will move after the wedding party leaves for the hotel in Bangor."

Bennett nodded and then looked at Benton Quest. "I think it would be wise if we had the car available, particularly since Leeds will be coordinating activities outside once we reach the reception. If you have no objection, we'll ride with Ethan so we can finalize security." Benton looked to Race who contemplated the arrangement for a minute. Then he gave a barely perceptible nod.

Benton turned back to Bennett and said, "All right, Admiral. Commander Barclay, I assume you've been to the church?" The man nodded. "Good, then why don't you go on ahead of us and we'll follow."

Bennett and Leeds climbed out of the van, but Wolenchek remained where he was. "Doctor?" Bennett said, holding open the door, but Wolenchek refused to move.

"Thank you, but I believe I'll ride with the Quests if they have no objection."

Race and Benton exchanged a surprised look, but Benton said, "Not at all."

"Thank you," Wolenchek replied. And to Bennett, he added, "I'll see you there, Admiral."

Reluctantly, Bennett shut the door and before long the two vehicles emerged out onto Route 1 and headed north.

"Where are we going, Benton?" Wolenchek asked after a few moments.

"To St. Margaret's Episcopal Church in Camden. It's not far from here, seven or eight miles, maybe. It's a lovely church . . . small and just perfect for this affair. Jessie was lucky to be able to secure its use."

"It's also perfect in terms of security, although Jess had no idea that would be necessary when she chose it." Race added. "It's a classic A-frame, so there are a limited number of windows in the sides, and the ones that are there are all stained glass so you can't see into them. The head of the sanctuary and the altar are on one end, so there's no windows there at all, and the other end has a huge window, but again, it's all stained glass. The only clear glass in the building are the front doors, and they're at the far end, opposite the altar, so the only thing you can get a distance angle on for a gunshot of any kind is at the opposite wall. And the entire entrance side of the building has an elevated porch with an open wooden railing so there's no chance of approaching the doors without being seen."

Wolenchek sighed and shook his head. "I am so sorry about this, Mr. Bannon. Angles of trajectory for sniper shots should have to be the least of your worries on your wedding day.

Race shrugged his shoulder. "Hazards of the job. After last night, I consider myself lucky that Estella's still willing to marry me." His lips twisted in a grimace. "Estella's mother proved right again, I guess."

Benton looked at the younger man in concern. "I know you said Estella's mother wasn't invited to the wedding, and at the last minute her sister backed out. Is there a problem there?"

Race's chuckle was bitter as he replied, "Oh, there's always been a problem there. Emilia Antonia Higuerra Velasquez has hated me from the day she heard I existed. Nothing I did was ever good enough. We were at the Velasquez _estancia_ one Christmas and the old lady got wound up and ended up telling Estella that if she stayed with me I would end up getting her killed. She was damned near right."

"That's not fair, Race," Jonny protested. "You were ambushed. Grandmother Velasquez should be grateful that you got Estella out alive."

"No, Jonny, it's more than fair," Race said flatly. "I was sloppy last night . . . seriously so . . . and it almost cost us dearly. Leeds had told me we were in danger. I even believed him . . . which is rare for me when it comes to Leeds. But Stel and I had been arguing and I was upset with her. I wasn't paying attention. It should have registered immediately that the hangar lights hadn't come on when the door opened. But I drove straight into the setup without a single alarm going off in my head. I sat there in the dark, swearing, while I tried to find the keys to the light box and then left Estella in the car like a sitting duck without it even occurring to me that we could be in trouble. By rights, we should both be dead. We would be, too, if Estella hadn't seen the movement and yelled at me."

"There's no point in beating yourself up over this, Race," Benton said quietly. "You both got out alive and unharmed. That's what's important. Just let it go."

"Here we are," Hadji announced, pulling up in front of the church. "If you want to get out, I will move the van. There isn't much parking around here and we should probably leave it for our guests."

Race shook his head. "No, I want you to leave the van right here in front of the church and in full view of Bennett's men. That way we ensure it's not tampered with. Also, I don't want Benton crossing any more open ground than necessary."

"They aren't going to shoot me, Race," Benton said firmly as he climbed out of the vehicle. "That gains them nothing."

"I don't care. This entire enterprise is crazy under the circumstances and I don't want to leave anything to chance."

Bennett and the others walked back to join them as the last of them exited the vehicle. Race led the way across the lawn and up the six steps to the door of the church. Warmth and the scent of pine greeted them as they opened the door and stepped inside. The interior of the church was small and done all in wood. Though showing signs of wear, it was lovingly cared for and everything shone with a deep rich sheen. There were twelve pews to each side of a center aisle that led to the front of the sanctuary. A deep red runner was laid out along the aisle and it led up to the communion rail, which separated the seating area from the rest of the sanctuary. A single pulpit stood to the left behind the rail, with a small, raised choir loft opposite it. The altar was centered between the two and a large, simple cross hung on the wall above it. Centered on the altar was a huge floral arrangement composed of red and white poinsettias and pine boughs. A smaller version sat on top of the piano, which stood down in front of the communion rail just below the pulpit. Matching smaller arrangements festooned the ends of each of the pews along the center aisle.

"This is lovely," Wolenchek murmured, looking around in admiration.

Race led the group up to the front of the church and through a door opposite the piano. Here they found themselves in a changing room. "The choir room," Race commented as everyone began taking off coats.

"Race . . ." They all turned to see a smiling, middle aged man with graying brown hair entering behind them. Race greeted the man with a smile and outstretched hand.

"Father Michael! Thank you so much for being willing to work us in today. I know you have services later tonight. We really do appreciate it."

"It's the least I can do." He held out a large white box. "Your daughter asked that I give you this."

"They're all doing okay?" Race responded, taking the box from him and glancing inside. More flowers. He passed the box to Jonny who opened it and began passing out boutonnieres.

Father Michael laughed. "Oh, yes, they're doing just fine. Dr. Mason arrived about an hour ago and things are progressing nicely. Your guests should start arriving in the next fifteen minutes or so, and then we should be ready to get started." The man grinned at Race impishly. "Just enough time for you to get well and truly nervous."

"Oh, thanks. That's a big help!" Race groaned, and everyone laughed. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
"There, is that better?" Barbara asked Estella as the two of them gazed at Estella's reflection in the mirror. 

"Much! I know Jessie tried, but I looked like a street walker."

Barbara chuckled and tilted Estella's head up so she could look at her cheek critically. "She just doesn't have the practice with make up that I've had. That looks pretty good . . . the bruise isn't going to be visible unless you know it's there and you look hard for it."

"Thank God! It would be the crowning insult if I went to the altar looking like Race had been beating me."

"As if he ever would!" Jessie commented hotly from behind them as she stopped in the open door to the dressing room. In the outer room, they could all hear Kefira muttering to herself.

Estella smiled at her daughter warmly. "Of course he wouldn't! But we don't want anyone else speculating on that, do we?"

"Jessie, I can not get this zipper . . ." Kefira complained, and Jessie disappeared from the doorway.

Barbara smiled. "No one around here would even think of it, you know. Everyone knows him too well for that."

"Do they really?" Estella asked in surprise, looking at the other woman in the mirror. "I mean, Race never used to be big on neighbors and things like that . . ."

"He is part of this community," Barbara answered, turning to pick up her medical bag. "Let's take a look at that arm. We should be in a position to get rid of the larger bandage and go to something smaller that won't be visible through the lace on the sleeves of your gown." She worked quietly for a moment and then gave Estella a quick glance. "You seem somewhat off balance, Estella . . . like sometimes you aren't sure you know him."

Estella stared down at the long, shallow cut on her arm blindly. Finally, without raising her head, she replied, "Sometimes, I don't think I do." She looked up at the other woman. "I mean, I used to know him. Even with all the secrets he kept, I think I knew him well enough. But he's changed so much. And every once in a while, I realize how different he really is, and I feel . . . I-I don't know . . . sort of . . . "

"Like you were left behind?" Barbara suggested softly.

"Yes," Estella agreed. "Exactly. Just like I was left behind. And . . . and I wonder if I'll ever be able to catch up . . . if I'll ever be able to totally forget the past. He . . . he told me something last night . . . something about his work. He never used to talk about his work . . . would get angry if I even asked. But I asked and he answered me, and . . . and I . . . I assumed that he had . . . " She turned away, suddenly extremely distressed. "I _know_ him better than that!" she exclaimed to herself. "To have even begun to think that he could have done something like that . . . and to have _**asked**_ him point blank . . . " Estella turned haunted eyes back to the older woman. "I hurt him so deeply doing that . . ."

Barbara finished with Estella's arm and said, "There. That's better. It will never show." Then she smiled at her gently, closing her medical bag. "Race Bannon is a very understanding man, Estella. He will never hold something like that against you. If you know him so well, then you know that. I don't know much about his past . . . no one does . . . about any of the Quests. They don't say much and we don't ask. But it doesn't matter. We know all we need to know. Whatever Race Bannon has done in the past . . . whatever dark things you know of him from that time . . . are over and done. You say that you knew he couldn't have done whatever it was you asked him about. That's the good man that we've come to know showing through . . . the man that's here today. He's the man you're marrying. Is anything else really important?"

Slowly, a smile formed on Estella's face. "No. No, you're right. What happened in the past doesn't matter. I love him and that's enough."

Jessie and Kefira appeared in the doorway. Both young women were dressed "Dad and the others just arrived," Jessie announced. "The guests will start showing up soon, too. We need to start getting you into your dress."

With a grateful smile for Barbara Mason, Estella rose and moved into the other room. "Okay, here we go," she said with a deep breath. Jessie reached up and pulled the plastic cover from the dress that hung on the nearby wall and both Kefira and Barbara gasped. Jessie reached up and carefully removed it from the hanger and carried it to her mother. With the help of the other three, Estella donned the dress. As Jessie and Kefira finished fastening the buttons down the back, she moved to stand and gaze at her reflection in the nearby mirror.

"Oh, you are absolutely beautiful," Kefira breathed in awe.

"It is a gorgeous dress and you look wonderful in it," Barbara agreed.

Estella turned suddenly and pulled her daughter to her in a tight hug. "Thank you, Jessica," she said in a choked voice. "It's all just magnificent and I never could have done it without you."

"Don't you dare cry," Jessie sniffed, leaning back to look at her mother in mock sternness, her eyes suspiciously bright. "You'll mess up your makeup." All four of them were laughing when a knock sounded on the door. When Barbara opened it, they could all hear music and Father Michael stood there smiling.

"If you ladies are all prepared, I believe we are ready to begin . . ." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
Benton watched Race Bannon pace. Four steps across . . . stop . . . turn . . . four steps back . . . stop . . . turn . . . 

"You're going to wear out the floor," Benton commented in amusement.

"This waiting is driving me crazy!"

"You're supposed to be good at waiting," Jonny observed with a grin as he leaned against the wall nearby. "You're the one who always told me that more than half of the time you spent in the spy business was spent waiting."

"Yeah, but this is different!" Race growled.

"Well, it is over now," Hadji said, coming back into the room. "Father Michael says that all of the guests are here and Estella is ready, so we are to go and line up out front."

Race stopped and took a deep breath in an effort to calm his jittery nerves. Benton did a quick look at all three of them, straightened Jonny's tie and then gestured at the door. "Then let's do it!"

The four men filed out and took their places at the front of the church. As Benton stood there, he gazed out on the crowd. These people were some of their closest friends. Down near the front was Doug Sanderson and his little girl, Michaela. Next to them sat Mrs. Evans with her brother and his wife. Matt sat there, as well, but Benton noted sadly that there was no sign of Bobby. Across the aisle from the Evans was Donald Henson, the judge that had played such a large part in the business with Brandon Simmons. A lump formed in Benton's throat when he saw who was sitting with Henson . . . Doug Wildey . . . Rachel's father. He forced himself to smile at the man, and Doug nodded at him. He and Doug got along well enough, but Benton had always found it difficult to face him. His proximity always brought the memories of Rachel back so strongly.

A bit further back, Benton spotted Brandon, his father and stepmother, all of who had flown in from Denver just for the occasion. There was also Naomi Smythe and her twins, Jason and Natasha, and the Washingtons with their son, Todd. There were a number of other people as well, mainly members of the emergency search and rescue teams that Race headed up in the area. And at the very back of the church, he spotted Bennett, Barclay, Leeds and Wolenchek. In the short time since they had separated, Bennett, Barclay and Leeds had all managed to find and change into dress uniforms. The dress whites stood out starkly in the small church.

Benton caught movement at the door that led down to the basement just as the music that Becca Harris had been playing shifted and the familiar strains of the wedding march began. As one, the crowd turned to watch the entrance of the last of the players for this event.

To his left he heard Hadji's breath catch as Kefira appeared at the far end of the aisle. She paused momentarily before she began the long walk toward them. She moved with stately grace, her back straight and her head high. The dress she wore was of deep green satin. From the narrow shoulder straps and soft V-ed neckline, it fell in clinging straight lines all the way to the floor. A short lace jacket of the same green clung to her shoulders and arms. As she reached the head of the aisle and turned to take her place to Race's right, Benton saw that the dress flared in the back at her knees, explaining how she moved so easily. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth and Benton could hear Hadji's breath explode out of him as he watched her. Jessie came next, having chosen to relinquish the role of maid of honor to Barbara Mason. Benton shot a quick glance at his youngest son. The boy looked absolutely stunned and Benton hoped he wouldn't keel over on the spot. Barbara Mason followed Jessie up the aisle and Benton was struck by her elegant beauty. Her wit, intelligence and caring nature tended to overshadow everything else, and it was with considerable surprise that Benton realized that the woman was also lovely in her own right.

The music changed again, and suddenly Estella stood at the far end of the aisle. The entire church must have heard Race gasp, and looking at the elegant woman standing at the far end of the aisle, Benton could understand how he felt.

Estella was stunning. Her dress was of ivory satin cut in a straight, sheath style. The bottom third of the skirt was weighted with lace and beads in a complicated pattern that continued all the way down to within an inch of the floor, ending in a scalloped edge. The neckline was cut back in a soft, squared-off V that sat wide on her shoulders leaving her chest and upper back bare. From the neckline down to her hips, the dress clung to her body and covered her in beaded lace that tapered down in a sharp V that lay flat across her stomach. It had fitted sleeves of matching beaded lace that reached down her arms and ended in a V across the back of her hands. A cathedral-style train trailed on the floor behind her, the pattern of lace and beads around its edge mirroring that on the dress. She wore a tiara-style headpiece covered with matching lace and a hip-length veil fell from it down her back and across her face. A strand of pearls encircled her neck and the matching earrings were dimly visible through the cloud of her veil.

Estella paused at the back of the church before she began slowly making her way up the aisle toward them. Benton stole a quick glance at Race. He was staring at the woman moving toward him, and Benton could tell he wasn't even breathing. Finally, Benton jabbed him with an elbow, and whispered softly, "Breathe, for God's sake, or you're going to pass out!" Race took a shaky breath and stepped forward to offer her his arm. She took it and the two of them turned toward the priest standing at the front of the sanctuary. As they all turned to face front, Benton hoped fervently that Race wouldn't forget his lines.

Father Michael smiled easily at the nervous couple and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Doesn't get any easier the second time around, does it?" Race and Estella looked at each other, and chuckled softly as their tension slowly drained away. The priest winked at them, then stood up a little straighter and addressed the audience, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of God to witness the marriage of these two people, Roger and Estella . . ."

Over the next 40 minutes, the simple Christian ceremony played out. Each member of the family contributed: Jonny and Jessie recited Shakespeare's 116th Sonnet, Hadji and Kefira performed a traditional Hindi wedding blessing, and even Benton had been persuaded to read a brief passage from the bible about the nature of love. At last, Father Michael looked out at the crowd and said, "And now the bride and groom have some words of their own that they wish to add to this sacred ceremony." He looked at the couple before him and said, "Roger?"

The two of them turned and faced each other and Race caught Estella's hands in his. He cleared his throat and began slowly, "Estella, I have known you for a long time, through both good times and bad. From the first instant I saw you, I knew that I would be bound to you for the rest of my life. Since that day, I've lived through times when you weren't at my side and I've come to understand what a bleak existence that is. So today, I give you this vow. Never again will I let anything come between us. You are what makes my life worth living and I will never willingly be without you again."

The silence was absolute. Finally, Estella replied, "Second chances are rare in this life, and, as I stand here today, I realize how truly blessed I am to be given a second chance to build a life with you. I have learned that there is a great difference between living and existing, and I know now that to be able to live requires you at my side. So today, I return your vow. From this day forward, I will never let anything come between us, and I will never willingly be without you ever again."

Both of them turned back to Father Michael, who cleared his throat and asked the crowd, "If there is anyone here who can show reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace." The church was absolutely still. Nodding, the priest looked at Barbara and Benton. "Do you have the rings?" They silently placed the objects into the priest's outstretched hand. "Bless, O Lord, these rings, as they are an everlasting sign of faithfulness and devotion." He turned to Race and Estella, "As these rings are a circle with no ending and no beginning, so shall be the eternal nature of your love." He handed the first ring to Race, who took it and gently placed it upon the ring finger of Estella's left hand, saying, "With this ring, I thee wed." The priest handed the second ring to Estella who repeated the action, "With this ring, I thee wed." As they clasped hands, Father Michael smiled broadly and said, "By the power invested in me, it is my distinct pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife." He winked at them again, "Go on...I know you've been waiting all day for this part!" Race chortled, then pulled Estella to him, and they kissed deeply until Jonny's hearty "Woo hoo!" broke the moment. The couple turned back toward the crowd as Father Michael said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you at this time Roger and Estella Bannon. May they live together in peace and happiness for the rest of their days."

The guests surged forward, offering congratulations, as all pretense of an exit down the aisle was forgotten. Race held Estella close and both of them laughed as well-wishers pummeled them from all sides. Nearby, Jonny, Jessie, Hadji and Kefira stood away from the crowd and watched. Jonny put an arm around Jessie as he pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her so she could wipe away her tears. "Congratulations, Jess. I know how much you wanted this."

She looked up at him and said, "Yes, I really did . . . but only if it was what _they_ wanted. And I think that, up until this very minute, I wasn't absolutely sure they did. But they are . . ." She looked back at her parents and Jonny saw fresh tears start.

"They are happy," Hadji said quietly, putting his arm around Kefira in an unconscious imitation of Jonny. "I do not believe there is any question that this is what they wanted."

Jessie looked up at Jonny and asked hesitantly, "Are you okay with this? You told me once that you wished they had never gotten back together . . ."

Jonny smiled at her, regret showing, "Jess, when I told you that, I was miserably unhappy and was aching for things to be the way they used to be. Life seemed so easy then. It never had anything to do with Race and Estella and not wanting them to be happy. It had to do with me . . . and you . . . and thinking I would never see you again." He looked again at the couple and said, "I couldn't be happier for them."

Jessie laid her hand on his chest and looked up at him, saying softly, "Thank you. I love you so much." By way of an answer, Jonny bent down and kissed her.

"Hey! Jonny!" Race's voice called. Jonny looked up at him questioningly. "Public displays of affection are_** my**_ prerogative today! Cut it out!"

Everyone laughed and Jonny saluted sharply, saying "Yes, sir!"

Laughing, Benton called out to the crowd, "Ladies and Gentlemen, dinner is waiting for us in Bangor. What do you say we head in that direction?" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Phenix Inn  
Bangor, Maine**

The noise level in the lobby of the Phenix Inn was phenomenal. Crowds of people moved in and out of the lobby and everyone was in a joyous mood. Huge sprays of red and white flowers decorated the main check-in desk and a large sign hung in the front window saying "BANNON RECEPTION". All of the lobby furniture had either been removed or shoved against the wall to accommodate the guests. Many of them spilled out into the hotel corridors, however none of the hotel guests complained. A small band was set up in a corner by the front windows, and their music overlaid all of the chatter. Estella, now devoid of her train, stood with Race. They talked animatedly with everyone and appeared to be in no hurry to leave. 

On the outer edge of the revelry, Bennett, Barclay and Wolenchek stood, watching the crowd warily. Finally, Barclay said in a low tone, "This is going to be a mass slaughter if anyone tries anything tonight. I had no idea there was going to be this kind of a crowd."

Bennett shook his head. "Neither did I. Bannon was never one to make friends easily and I figured that when they said it was to be a small wedding with an open reception later that they meant maybe 50 people for a couple of hours. There have to have been at least twice that many!"

"Try over 200," Wolenchek commented dryly. "I just wandered over and took a quick look at the guest book. And new people are still showing up. I think the entire population of a three county area must have turned out for this thing."

"How's Leeds holding up outside?" Bennett asked.

"Well enough," Barclay said. "We're lucky it's not bitterly cold. He says there've been a lot of people out on the street, most all of them coming here, but there hasn't been any sign of trouble. The men covering the exterior are staying well concealed and no one seems to have noticed their presence."

Bennett sighed softly. "I pray this thing finishes off without problems. We're on seriously tenuous ground with Benton Quest right now, and if anything goes wrong with this wedding, our tails are going to be in a sling." He checked his watch. "It's almost 10:30. Surely it will wrap up soon."

"It certainly shows no signs of breaking up." Wolencheck remarked. "I believe there are more people here now than there were half an hour ago."

"Where is Dr. Quest, anyway?" Barclay said, sounding a bit worried. "I haven't seen him in a while."

Bennett rose up on tiptoe and peered across the room toward a corner on the far side of the registration desk. He grunted softly in satisfaction and relaxed again. "Over on the far side of the desk in a corner. I don't know if he's being wary or if he's just tired, but he's been sitting there for quite a while now."

"Maybe someone should check on him," Wolenchek ventured, frowning in concern.

Barclay spotted a dark-haired woman in a green dress crossing toward the scientist. "I think someone else just had the same idea," Barclay said. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
Benton Quest sat quietly in a chair on the far side of the lobby, somewhat screened by a large plant and watched his family and the various guests mingling. He was feeling depressed. He wasn't sure why . . . maybe it was the letdown after all the stresses of the day, or maybe he was just tired. He never did have the chance to get any sleep. As he watched, Race put an arm around Estella and pulled her close as they both laughed at something Doug Sanderson had said. When Benton turned his eyes from that scene, they fell on Jonny and Jessie. The lack of a dance floor did not appear to be a deterrent to those two, because they were nestled tightly in each other's arms not far from the band, swaying slowly to the soft music. He turned from that scene as well, only to be met with the sight of Hadji and Kefira. Kefira's hand was tucked snugly in the crook of Hadji's arm as he introduced her to each new arrival, having accepted with resigned grace the fact that everyone knew about his betrothal. Benton finally sighed and gave up, shifting his gaze to his lap. Where had the time gone? And how had he gotten left so far behind? 

"Penny for your thoughts?" a quiet, warm voice said. He looked up and found Barbara Mason standing beside his chair. She smiled and said, "You appear to be hiding behind a potted plant."

Benton forced a chuckle. "Not really. It was the only chair open at the time."

She looked around and then snagged another chair and pulled it up. "May I join you? I could stand to sit down. My feet are killing me."

Benton glanced at the dark green shoes the woman wore and replied dryly, "By all means. Did Jessie pick out those shoes?"

Barbara settled into the chair with a heartfelt sigh and stuck her feet out in front of her to stare at the pointed toes, three inch heels, and ankle straps. "You really don't think I would have bought these for myself, do you? I'm too _old_ for shoes like this!"

This time, Benton's laughter was more spontaneous. "You're only as old as you feel," he replied.

"Then I must be 250!" She slipped one shoe off and massaged her foot gingerly. "No, to be fair, they are beautiful and as this kind of shoes go, they aren't that bad. I'm just not accustomed to wearing anything like that any more. Not much occasion to do it up here." She shot him a quick look and said, "What's bothering you, Benton? You've been quiet and reserved all evening. It's not like you."

"I'm just tired, that's all," he said.

Barbara sat gazing out at the milling people with a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth. After a moment, she looked back at him and said matter-of-factly, "You really shouldn't try to lie to your doctor, you know."

"What do you . . . oh, never mind," he grunted. "There's no point in hedging, is there? You won't let it go."

"No, I won't."

"I'd just really rather not talk about it," Benton replied stiffly. He sat, stubbornly silent, staring out across the room and refusing to look at her. After a time, Barbara shifted in her chair and when Benton shot her a quick glance, she had turned and was looking directly at him with her "diagnosing" look.

"Let me take a wild guess here," she said quietly, "and then you can correct me if I'm wrong. Something's not right, but you can't put your finger on what it is. You feel lousy . . . maybe even to the point of feeling physically ill at times . . . things like lethargy, headache, maybe even nausea. You wonder if you're trying to get sick, but the symptoms are so elusive that you can't put your finger on them closely enough to describe them to me without feeling stupid. You're tired all the time, and it's even a struggle to do the things you've always enjoyed . . . like your work. Also, your emotions are in turmoil, and you're finding yourself resenting things that you know you should be happy about." She nodded her head at the crowd of people in the room. "Like Race and Estella, or Hadji and his new fiancée. And that makes you feel petty, because you know you should be happy for them." Then her eyes fell on Jonny and Jessie across the room, still locked together, dancing slowly. "And no matter how much you love her, Jessie's relationship with Jonny seems to be eating a hole in your gut, making you feel like someone's stuck a knife in you and is twisting it slowly." Benton was staring at her with a stunned expression on his face, as though not wholly believing what he was hearing. "And so you keep silent and go along feeling lousy . . . putting up a façade for those around you . . . and yet, feeling slightly betrayed because no one seems to notice that there is something wrong." She cocked one eyebrow at him. "Does that just about cover it?"

Benton swallowed with difficulty. "Yes. Yes, I think it does." He stared down at the plant blindly. "I look at my sons and I wonder when they grew up. I-I never saw it happening. Just, one day, I looked across the breakfast table and . . . and there was Hadji . . . and he was a _Sultan_ . . . the leader of his own country! And Jonny . . . my little boy . . . my lifeline . . . sitting there telling me that he's so much in love that he feels like he wants to die when she isn't with him. And . . . and . . ." He put a hand to his head, as though it has begun to ache, and Barbara saw it was shaking slightly.

She reached down quickly and began refastening the strap on her shoe. "Come on. Let's take a walk. I could use a little fresh air." Standing, she urged Benton to his feet. Tucking one hand in the crook of his elbow, she guided him toward the front door, where she retrieved their coats. Donning them, they stepped out into the brisk night air. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
"What plots are you gentlemen hatching over here?" a familiar voice asked. 

Bennett, Barclay and Wolenchek turned to find Race eyeing them with good-natured suspicion. He began to grin as all three men assumed matching innocent expressions.

"Not a thing," Bennett assured him.

"Uh huh, like I'll ever believe that one."

"This has been quite an event," Bennett said to him.

Race looked around the room with a slightly surprised expression on his face. "Yeah, it has. I can't say I expected quite this many people to show up. It's been nice though. They've really made Estella feel welcome."

"I haven't had the chance to congratulate you," Bennett said. "I'm glad to see the two of you so happy. You know I wish you nothing but the best."

Race eyed Bennett for a moment before replying, "Thank you. And if I've never said it, Admiral, I want to do it now. I owe you a great deal for picking up the pieces after everything fell apart the first time. It really wasn't your mess to clean up and I appreciate that you took the trouble."

Bennett just shrugged and said, "I'm glad I could help." Then he nodded toward the corner. "Who is the woman with Dr. Quest . . . the one who acted as your wife's maid of honor today?"

Race followed Bennett's gaze and spotted Benton and his companion. "Barbara Mason. She's the local doctor in Rockport and has been the family's physician pretty much since the time we moved here."

They all watched as Benton and Barbara rose from their seats and moved across the room toward the front door. Both of them picked up coats and stepped outside. Bennett stiffened in immediate concern. "That's not a good idea . . ."

"Let it go, Admiral," Race admonished softly. "There's plenty of manpower outside to keep an eye on him, and Barbara Mason isn't going to do him any harm."

With a terse, "I'm going to check outside," Barclay took off for the front door like a scalded cat.

Race just shook his head. "Benton's going to be really upset if he makes a nuisance of himself," he warned.

"Better upset than kidnapped or dead," was Bennett's reply. Then he asked curiously, "Is something going on between Dr. Quest and Dr. Mason?"

Race shook his head ruefully. "Don't I wish. No, unfortunately, there isn't. They're just good friends. Oh, I don't think Barbara would object. If I'm any judge, she's interested, but Benton is totally clueless. I doubt he'll ever reach that point. Rachel's ghost has too firm of a grip on him."

Bennett frowned. "Has he ever seen anyone about it . . . a professional, I mean. It doesn't strike me as healthy for him to still be that fixated after all these years."

"Not to my knowledge, and I suspect he never will. In his mind, to try and find a total release from the grief of Rachel's death, would be to lose her completely, and he can't bring himself to do that." Race stared down quietly at the floor for a long time and then he looked back up at Bennett. "You heard what happened last month, didn't you?"

"About Jonny? Yes, I heard. It was in all the newspapers. That must have been hard."

"You can't imagine," Race said, suddenly sounding tired. "It was like Rachel all over again. The worst thing about it was that no one was with him when it happened. Estella, Jessie, and I were in Colombia, and Hadji was in Bangalore. Even Mrs. Evans was out of the house. I thank God for Doug Sanderson and Donald Henson, both of whom had the sense to know that they shouldn't leave him alone."

"What do you mean?" Bennett asked sharply.

Race looked at him in surprise. "You mean you didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"That for the first two years I was in the Quest household, I had him on 24-hour suicide watch. There was a very real possibility that he was depressed enough to take his own life."

Bennett and Wolenchek both looked shocked. "I never knew it was that bad," Bennett said softly.

"Oh, yeah, it was that bad." Race stood, staring at the floor sightlessly as the memories of those days came flooding back. "In the beginning, he was like the living dead. He had no will to continue at all. Jonny was a mess . . . convinced it was his fault that his mother died. And Benton," he sighed and shook his head. "Benton's behavior toward the boy only reinforced it. He could hardly stand to even be in the same room with him."

"Surely he didn't blame the child!" Wolenchek exclaimed.

"God, no . . . that wasn't it! It was because Jonny looks so much like her . . . every time he looked at the boy he went to pieces. Then Jonny would fall apart again, which would trigger Benton into a guilt cycle, and . . ." Race smiled grimly at Bennett. "Your babysitting job was a lot tougher than you figured it was going to be, let me tell you."

Race paused, lost in the pain of those memories. Finally, he continued quietly, "And then, suddenly, he seemed to get better. Initially, you could see him forcing himself to spend time with Jonny, but the more he did it, the easier it became. In time, he forged an incredibly strong bond with his son, and the two of them became closer than I ever would have thought possible. He also started to work again and we began to travel. It was during that time that we discovered Hadji in Calcutta and Benton adopted the boy." Race stopped again, staring down at the floor, then shook his head.

"I should have recognized the signs, but I had convinced myself that the worst was over. Oh, most of the time, he seemed happy. He was working steadily and he loved Jonny and Hadji. It was all high adventure and excitement and fun. But whenever we returned to Palm Key, he would turn really quiet . . . too quiet . . . and we would never stay very long. A week . . . two at the most . . . and then we'd suddenly have a new research project and we'd be off again. He never really rested between jobs." Race fell silent again, staring blindly out across the crowd.

After a while, Bennett prompted softly, "Things weren't right, though?"

Race stirred uneasily and finally sighed. "No, they weren't. We continued like that for almost a year. But then, despite all of our precautions, Jonny got sick. He was extremely ill and we were forced back to Palm Key for an extended stay."

"His life wasn't threatened, was it?" Bennett asked in concern. "To face the possibility of losing his son so soon after Rachel's death . . ."

Race shook his head. "No, we knew within the first few days . . . long before we ever returned to Palm Key . . . that he would survive. But the recovery time was slow and Jonny needed a stable location to do it in. Traveling was out. And the longer we were there, the more silent Benton became. He stopped working again and, before long, he wasn't spending time with either of the two boys. It was like the entire cycle was starting over. One day, he simply disappeared. He hadn't been out of the house in close to a month, and suddenly, I couldn't locate him anywhere. I just about panicked. I finally found him outside, lying on the ground right were she died. He was curled up in a fetal position and crying like a child. I knew then that we couldn't stay in Palm Key. The memories in that place were simply too much for him."

Race scrubbed his face with his hands, as though trying to wipe out the past. "I called a real estate broker that I knew, and told her to find me a new place . . .something as different from Palm Key as she could. I went with the first place she found . . . the house here in Maine . . . and two weeks after the incident on the grounds, I forced him to move. All I took were clothes and personal items. The rest of it I just left . . . locked the place down and walked away from it."

"Has he ever gone back?" Bennett asked quietly.

"A few times . . . mainly to get equipment or specific items that he can't replace, but it's still hard for him. I've tried to get him to sell the property several times, but he won't even entertain the idea. He just can't let go."

"So what happened after the move to Maine?" Bennett prodded when it finally appeared Race might not continue.

He sighed again and leaned against the wall. "It took me weeks to get the lab and security in place because he just had no heart for anything. And I watched him continuously, not entirely sure what his mood was. Initially, I'd been worried that the high cliff above the boathouse might be too much of a temptation . . . an easy way out. But he had improved that much, at least. Away from the atmosphere at Palm Key, his bond with Jonny kicked in again and it prevented him from turning actively suicidal. We'd been there for about a month when he came downstairs one morning with an almost frantic need to work. In a frenzy, he got the lab set up again and then he shut himself away for days at a time, working on a project he refused to talk about."

"What was it?" Wolenchek asked curiously, but Race just shook his head and shrugged.

"Did he ever finish it?" the scientist insisted.

"As far as I know, he did, but I don't think the end product was the point. It was the process. It was through that project that he finally worked through the majority of his grief and came to terms with Rachel's death. He's improved slowly, but steadily ever since. I think, in his own way, he's found peace, but I doubt he'll ever be totally whole again. He's rebuilt his life around his two sons. Jonny and Hadji really were what gave him back the will to live. I suspect it's going to be hard for him over the next couple of years . . . watching them hit adulthood and strike out on their own." Race looked toward the door where Benton and Barbara had disappeared. "I'd like to think that he could continue to rebuild with Barbara, but I just get the feeling it's more than he'll ever be able to do."

Bennett and Wolenchek exchanged looks that were full of pity. "He hides it well," Bennett said.

"Most of the time," Race agreed. "It's only when something strikes just the right resonance . . . the way you did this morning . . . that it really surfaces."

"Do you think he could still be . . . a-a . . . danger to himself?" Bennett asked hesitantly.

Race shook his head. "Initially, when we first thought Jonny had died, I was really afraid that he might be, but now I don't think so. He's recovered that far. The concern that Doug and Don showed for him . . . the dedication that Mrs. Evans exhibited . . . the way all the townspeople rallied around him . . . none of that escaped him. Hadji even refers to him as 'Father' now . . . something he never used to do. He's developed roots . . . other things and people he cares about that would anchor him here. No, he's past suicide, I think. Now, he just grieves."

"And Jonny? How has he adjusted?" Wolenchek asked.

Race thought about that question for a long time. "Jonny is amazing. He's proven to be more resilient than I ever thought any child could be. He suffered through all of Benton's good times and bad, and always bounced back. Hadji was a savior for him, I think. Those two boys truly are brothers under the skin. So different and yet so much alike." Race shook his head. "But there are times when I see his father in Jonny so strongly it's terrifying. He survived his mother's loss and made peace with it, but when we almost lost Jess two years ago, I watched him descend into exactly the same hell his father was in when Rachel died. Nothing any of us did could stop it." He glanced at the two men and the look he gave them was disturbing. "Even now, I'm not sure he's totally climbed back out of it."

Suddenly, the music that had been so quiet and sedate just moments before was replaced by a bright techno pop sound with a strong beat. Race saw the band members rising to take a break and assumed they must have put on a tape. Suddenly, laughing guests began clearing space in the center of the room. As the crowd parted in front of them, the three men spotted Jonny and Jessie. Jonny had shed his suit jacket and vest and Jessie had kicked off her shoes and both of them were dancing to the bright, driving rhythm. Several other teenagers rapidly joined them. Race saw Jonny look up and call out, "Come on, Hadji! You've done this often enough. If Kefira doesn't know how, then teach her!" They saw Kefira excitedly reach down to gather up her skirts and kick off her shoes. Hadji just laughed and began shedding his coat and vest. Race searched the crowd and spotted Estella standing not far away. Shaking his head as if to throw off the last shreds of gloom, Race grinned and said, "If you gentlemen will excuse me?" and then crossed to take Estella's hand and drag her out onto the improvised dance floor.

The two government men remained on the edge of the crowd watching the dancers. After a while, Wolenchek glanced over at Bennett and noticed that his gaze was no longer directed toward the center of the room. Following the direction of his look, through the large picture window, he spotted Benton Quest and Barbara Mason walking past the window. Wolenchek watched the pair for a while and then, suddenly he said, "Admiral, will you tell me something?"

Bennett looked over at the man in surprise. "Certainly, Doctor, if I can."

"Whatever happened to the young man who killed Rachel Quest?"

Bennett stared at him for a long moment and then countered with a question of his own. "How did you know Mrs. Quest, Doctor?"

For a time, Bennett thought the man might not answer him. Finally, Wolenchek replied, "We were graduate students together. I was in my second year of doctoral work when Rachel began work on her Master's. We shared an advisor and were both assigned to work together on a project. It was actually part of my doctoral research and I was her supervisor on the project."

"And you fell in love with her," Bennett said softly.

Wolenchek turned to stare at Jonny with a sad look on his face. "Yes," he admitted reluctantly. Then his mouth twisted into a sad smile. "Rachel was easy to love."

"Did you ever tell her?"

"No, there was no way I could. I was her supervisor. The situation was totally impossible. She had no steady boyfriend . . . only seemed interested in her work . . . so I determined to finish out the year and speak to her about it when the research work was finished. Unfortunately, before we reached that point, I received a fellowship to study abroad for a year. It was an outstanding opportunity and I took it. While I was gone, Benton Quest came as part of a research grant and the two of them met." Wolenchek shrugged. "She fell hard for Benton and I guess the feeling was mutual. By the time I returned, it was way past too late. They were married the following spring."

"Does Dr. Quest know?"

"How would he? I never confessed my feelings to Rachel, so she couldn't have told him. And I certainly never did. But you didn't answer my question, Admiral. What happened to the boy that killed her?"

Bennett sighed. "He stayed in the military, but he requested and was shifted to supply. For a long time, he seemed all right. He was a drinker, but only off duty, and no more so than most any other soldier. At least, so we thought. No one realized the extent of his drinking problem until it was too late. About five years after the incident at Palm Key, he didn't report to his post one day. The MPs went looking for him, and found him in his apartment on base. A combination of the guilt and all the alcohol had eaten a hole in his gut and he'd bled to death of a perforated ulcer in the middle of the night." Bennett shook his head. "He must have been in agony . . . dying by inches . . . but he didn't call for help. We found a note on a table near his body. It said, 'May God forgive me . . . I never meant to kill her.'" Bennett sighed. "He was 25 years old."

For a long time, the two men were silent. Finally, Wolenchek said, "I don't know if you will understand this, Admiral, but I'm glad Benton Quest still suffers over her death. She was like no one else I've ever known, and it's fitting that a woman of her caliber is never forgotten. I know I never have." Then, Wolenchek turned and began making his way through the crowd toward the door, leaving Bennett staring after him in pity. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**City Street  
Bangor, Maine**

Breathing deeply, Barbara looked out across the gaily-lit street. Christmas lights festooned the light poles and store windows up and down the street glittered with silver and gold tinsel and twinkling lights. As they stood there gazing out at the Christmas splendor of Bangor, a sudden explosion of laughter caused both of them to turn and look through the front window of the hotel. They saw Mike Short doing an impression of some basketball play in an over-exaggerated way that left the crowd convulsed in laughter. On the edge of the open space around the young man, both of them could see Jonny and Jessie. Jessie held Mica Sanderson in her arms while Jonny stood close, with one arm tucked around Jessie and the other laying across the shoulders of Brandon Simmons. As they watched, Mica yawned mightily and laid her head down on Jessie's shoulder. Jonny smiled and stroked the child's head gently. A stranger would have assumed that the four were actually a family. 

_**"When did this happen?"**_ Benton asked raggedly, his despair clear. "How could I have missed so much? And if . . . no _when_ . . . they go, what do I have left? Jonny was my reason for living after Rachel died, and Hadji . . . Hadji was like a gift from God himself . . . a son so much like me . . . one who shared my interests. But I know he'll never be able to stay, now . . . not with the needs of Bangalore being foremost. And . . ." he stumbled to a halt, simply unable to put his feelings into words any longer.

Gently, Barbara guided him away from the building and the sights and sounds of the revelry within. They stopped near the empty fountain not far from the front of the hotel. The sculpture in the center of the pool shimmered with diffuse greens, reds, yellows and blues as the holiday lights glimmered on its burnished silver surface.

"Look around you, Benton," Barbara urged him softly. "This is a beautiful place . . . a place of joy. Can't you feel the sense peace here? The sense of place?" She paused, looking at him closely. "Whatever happens in the days to come . . . with Race and Estella . . .with your boys . . . you'll never be alone." She smiled at his look of confusion. "All these years, and you still don't understand us, do you? And yet, it doesn't matter. You've _become_ one of us. You belong here, you know."

"I-I don't understand . . ."

She turned away from him and began walking slowly up the sidewalk toward the jewelry store on the corner. He followed her as though mesmerized, moving forward to catch her arm and steady her as her feet slipped slightly on the snowpacked sidewalk. "We're an insular people, Benton. You know that. We're fiercely independent, largely self-sufficient, and we don't like outsiders much. We accept strangers slowly." He nodded wordlessly. "But you aren't an outsider any more. You, and your family, haven't been for a long time. You supported school systems and libraries with both time and money when your own children didn't use them. You've come to the aid of stricken residents more times than I can count. Good God, I've seen you work a fishing trawler in nightmare weather conditions because there was a family that would have lost everything if they hadn't been able to continue bringing in their catch. And you never flaunt your wealth, even though all of us know it must be considerable. You could have paid off the man's boat ten times over and not even influenced your balance sheet, but you didn't . . . because you understood that the man's dignity was as important to him as his ability to feed his family. For those things, and hundreds of others, you've become a part of this community. And what's more, you've become an important part . . . people look to you for guidance, whether you realize it or not." She turned and laid a hand on his arm. "How can you possibly wonder what you will have left? Don't you realize how much people care about you here and how _desperately_ you would be missed if you were gone?"

Benton stared at her in stunned silence, having no idea what to say. Barbara watched him for a minute and then continued softly, "As for your sons, Benton? You seem to feel that you're 'losing' them in some way . . . that they will vanish like smoke in the wind one day very soon. But you know that's not true. You are their foundation . . . what give them roots and the strength to face all the changes that are in store for them. And I think that you're going to find that the farther away they move, the more they will come back to you. Yes, it will be in different ways than you are accustomed to, but they're going to be equally satisfying. You should be incredibly proud of those two . . . and yourself as well. You've done a fine job raising them."

Benton finally found his voice. "Myron Dawson said almost the same thing to me the other day."

Barbara smiled. "Myron is a wise man. You should listen to him." Suddenly, her smile widened to a grin that had a decidedly evil glint. "And some years from now, when the grandchildren that both Jonny and Hadji are undoubtedly going to give you, are driving you to distraction, I am going to remind you of this conversation."

Benton's lips twitched, and suddenly he started to laugh . . . the first genuinely joyous laugh she'd heard from him in a long time. "I'll bet you will, too."

She caught his arm again and turned him back toward the hotel. "What do you say we go back in and join the fun? Personally, I want to know what the heck Mike Short was doing in there!"

"Yes, let's do." Then he stopped again and placed his hand over hers where it lay on his arm. "Thank you, Barbara . . . for everything. I-I don't know what we would have done without you."

She squeezed his arm and urged him forward again. "Isn't that what friends are for?" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
Out on the dark street, a shadowed figure watched from the alley across the way as Benton Quest and Barbara Mason stood talking in front of the hotel. It drew back more deeply into the darkness and then became motionless again as the couple walked down the sidewalk and stopped again. Francesca Hamilton stood in the shadows for a long time after they rejoined the other guests, just staring at the lights and people not far away. That event seemed to represent everything in her life that she didn't have and the realization made her angry and bitter. More than anything, she wanted to be a part of that group, but she knew it would never happen. How long she stood in the icy darkness, she couldn't say, but a voice behind her in the alley brought her around sharply. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Keeping watch on the Quests. Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?"

"Skulking in an alley across the street?" the voice asked sarcastically. "I thought you told me you could get in with that crowd again . . . get close to them."

"I will," she replied irritably. "You've got to give me time. Jonny Quest is suspicious and I'm having to get past that. I'm dating his best friend now. It's only a matter of time before he relents and starts letting Bobby and I join in." She turned her back and stared across the street again. The hate was clear in her voice as she continued, "I would have been in a long time ago if it weren't for Jessie Bannon. She's the one who's blocking me . . . I know it. We need her out of the way . . ."

"You don't go _near_ the Bannon girl!" the voice said sharply. The shadowy form stepped forward and jerked the girl around to face him. In the dim light from across the street, Francesca could just see the pale face and black hair of Connor Leeds. "You don't _touch_ her! Is that clear?"

"What's the matter, Leeds? You got the hots for Race Bannon's daughter?" Francesca goaded him nastily.

With calculated precision, Leeds smacked the girl in the face. "We do not need Race Bannon on our trail in a hunt for vengeance. I got you out of that stinking Egyptian jail for one reason, and one reason only . . . so you could give me Baxter. So where is he?"

"I've told you before, I can't go hunting for Baxter. You don't approach that man . . . he comes to you. Setting myself up near the Quests is the one sure way to guarantee that he'll come looking for me. Particularly if what you say is true and Benton Quest holds something that Baxter wants. Provided your information is accurate," she added nastily.

"Oh, it's accurate. You just make damned sure that when the man contacts you, I hear about it!"

Francesca glared up at Leeds. "That's something else, Leeds. Have you forgotten? Our deal was that I provide you a line to bring Baxter down and in return, you spring my father. So where the hell is he, huh?"

"Getting you out was easy enough," Leeds replied irritably. "All I had to do was play on the sympathies of the new ambassador and exercise a little blackmail on some high-ranking Egyptian authorities. Getting your father out is proving to be more difficult. He's not a very pleasant or well-liked man, is he?"

"So call in some favors at the State Department. Surely you know someone who can put some pressure on."

"No," Leeds replied shortly.

Francesca stared at him for a long time, and then began to laugh bitterly. "I knew it. I just knew it. This whole thing is a rogue operation, isn't it? This isn't sanctioned by the company, and they don't even know you're in the middle of it. Oh, that's just great!"

"I will have Baxter," Leeds snarled. "He's _**mine**_ . . . no one else's. I'm going to bring that bastard down, one way or the other."

"Yeah? You do that. You just remember one thing, Leeds. I can make you or break you here. I hold all the cards. So you will do what I want. That includes getting my father out of jail." Then she stepped forward and glared up at him, her eyes glittering in the dim light. Her voice was ugly as she finished, "It may even mean permanently ridding me of Jessica Bannon." And with that, she turned and disappeared into the night.


	11. Chapter 10 Saturday, December 25

**Chapter 10**

  


Saturday, December 25

Quest Compound

When Race Bannon woke late the next morning, it was to the uneasy sense of being alone. He lay there for a long minute, listening to the silence, feeling somehow disoriented. He shouldn't be alone . . . should he? He shifted, disentangling himself from the bedclothes and as he did so the sudden flash of gold from his left hand brought memories of the night before flooding back. He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, looking around.

"Stel?" Nothing disturbed the quiet of the room around him. He was definitely alone. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and got up, crossing the room to the bathroom. "Estella?" Her wedding gown hung on the closet door where she had put it the night before, and his tux was still tossed over a nearby chair, but other than that, there was no sign of her. Feeling obscurely hurt, he dressed quickly and headed off in search of his wife.

The instant he opened the outer door of their suite, he was greeted by the sounds of laughter and fragrant smells of cooking food. Realizing he was starved, he set off at a rapid pace for the kitchen. As he passed the family room door, Jonny called out to him, "Oho, here he is! Jeez, we thought you were going to sleep until noon!" Race paused, grinning at Jonny and Hadji who were lounging in front of the television. The fireplace burned merrily and Christmas lights gleamed on the large, brightly decorated tree that sat in the corner.

"Hey, I'd earned the right to sleep in! That party didn't break up until after midnight!"

"Well, _you_ didn't have to stay," Jonny said, grinning evilly. "No one would have questioned it if you and Estella had left early."

Hadji choked back a laugh. "Yes, what time did you finally get to sleep, anyway?"

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Race replied good-naturedly. "I'm going to have to put up with this all the time, now, aren't I?"

"Yes, I believe you are," Hadji said smugly.

"You bet," Jonny agreed. "You're "legal" now, after all! I don't have to feel badly about making cracks about the noise anymore."

Race just snorted and said, "Speaking of my wife, where is she?"

"In the kitchen," Jonny replied, sounding slightly aggrieved. "They all are."

"And we are not allowed in there," Hadji added, sounding equally disgusted. "They say we are 'under foot'."

Race frowned suddenly, looking around. "Where's Benton?"

"I think he just tried to invade the sacred domain in the hope of getting another cup of coffee," Jonny replied. He waved at the computer workstation over near the Christmas tree. "He's been working on something ever since he got up this morning and he just took a break from it."

Race suddenly felt better. Ever since his conversation with Bennett and Wolenchek the night before, the thought of Benton had been weighing on his mind. In the flurry of closing down the Colombian dig, wedding preparations, and their other problems, it hadn't occurred to him until last night that Benton had been rather quiet of late. Knowing that he had spent the morning with his sons made Race feel better.

"Good morning!" a cheerful voice behind him said. Race turned to find Benton grinning at him archly. "I see you finally made it up. What did _you_ do last night that left you so exhausted?"

"Not you, too!" Race groaned. "Come on, guys, give me a break! You aren't supposed to be ganging up on me." They all just laughed. "Fine, I'm going to go see if I can get some breakfast!" Their laughter followed him through the dining room and into the kitchen.

The room had to be a good ten degrees warmer than the rest of the house and it was filled with smells that left his mouth watering. Jessie stood at the kitchen sink, peeling potatoes, while Kefira worked diligently at the table kneading a large lump of dough. Just as he came through the door, Estella straightened up and closed the oven door. Her face was flushed from the heat and she was laughing. When she saw him, she set the turkey baster down and came around the island to greet him.

"Good morning!" she said warmly, coming straight into his arms.

He kissed her deeply before raising his head and saying, "Morning. Sorry I slept so late." Then he chuckled. "I'm being abused for it, too. Sexual innuendo seems to be the topic for the day." He pointed at the two girls across the room, both of whom were grinning widely at him. "Don't you two start, either! I've had enough of it from the three in the other room."

"And he didn't even do anything to be abused for . . ." Estella murmured demurely, with a look at her two companions. Both girls collapsed in a screaming fit of laughter and Race just gazed heavenward, as though asking for patience.

"Is there any chance at all I can get something to eat?" he asked plaintively. "I'm starved."

Leaving him standing just inside the kitchen door, Estella went and poured him a cup of coffee and put a large cinnamon roll on a plate. Returning, she handed them to him with a smile. "Will these do?" she asked.

"They look wonderful!" He took a sip of the coffee and looked around the kitchen. There was food everywhere he looked. "What are you doing . . . cooking for the Prussian army? Surely you don't intend for us to eat all of this?"

Jessie laughed. "Not hardly. No, most of this is going over to the community center in Camden later this afternoon. The local churches and community groups have all gotten together to host a big Christmas dinner for the poor and homeless this evening. Local individuals are donating all of the food and people from the community are working in shifts to serve. We've been helping Mrs. Evans cook for it for the last two days." She glanced up at the clock. "Kefira and I are scheduled to be there about 3:00."

Race frowned abruptly. "I'm not sure I like that idea. This isn't a good time for the two of you to go wandering around alone."

Jessie looked at her father in disgust. "Don't start! We promised we would do this. Both of us are armed and we'll watch ourselves, but we can't back out now."

Race looked from Jessie to Kefira. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "But before you leave, I'm going to want to run both of you through some shooting drills. You can use the practice, Jess, and I want to know just how good you are with that gun, Kefira. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't have let you walk out of here with it, but . . ."

"I know, Mr. Bannon," Kefira replied quietly. "Under any other circumstances, I would not have taken it. But yesterday it was more important to be certain that nothing happened to Estella."

He looked at the Indian girl for a long time and then simply said, "Thank you."

"I didn't even realize you had armed them, Race," Estella said quietly. "Not until about halfway through the reception last night. Did you really think there was that much danger? If you did, then we should have cancelled."

"To be honest, I didn't think there was. But it's always better to be overly cautious and have everything go right, than to assume things will go well and be sorry later." He looked at the two girls again. "Where are the guns now?"

"I am wearing mine," Kefira replied promptly.

"So am I," Jessie added.

Race looked both of them over carefully. "Where? They don't show."

Jessie dried her hands and reached around behind her, pulling the Glock out of the waistband of her jeans. Kefira wiped the flour off of her hands, reached up under her bulky sweater, and produced the HK. Race took both guns and pulled the ammunition clips.

"I'm going to put these away for now," he said, finishing his coffee. "I don't see the need for them in the house, but we'll go through the drills and you'll take them with you again when you leave this afternoon. In fact, until this is over, you don't leave the Compound unarmed, you understand?" They both nodded quietly as they resumed their earlier tasks.

Estella followed Race out of the kitchen and down to the study. She watched him silently as he once again opened the weapons cabinet, broke down the pistols and stored them safely.

"Come here," he commanded quietly. She moved to join him and he showed her the hidden latch for the gun cabinet and how to access it. "There are two others in the house . . . one in the family room and one upstairs in Benton's room. I'll show you where they are and how to get to them a little later. The one in Benton's room contains an assortment of both handguns and target weapons, and the one in the family room contains rifles of various sorts, including the prototype laser rifles Benton developed for defense of this Compound. There are pistols similar to them in the case here in the study. Those don't leave the facility."

"Why not?" she asked.

He leaned against the desk and looked at her solemnly. "You know how Rachel died?" Estella nodded. "Then you know that she was killed by a young soldier that had been assigned to guard the family." Again she nodded. "Since that time, Benton has not tolerated military personnel of any kind in a defensive role around his family. He abhors violence . . . of any sort . . . but he will resort to it if pushed. And his 'button', if you will, is a threat to one of the kids." A slightly surprised look formed on his face suddenly. "Or you and I."

Estella raised an eyebrow at him. "That's just occurring to you?"

"Yes . . . yes, I guess it is." Race reached out and pulled her into his arms. She could feel him smile against the top of her head. "Home, Estella. A place . . . with a real family . . . for the first time, we really do have one." 

She clung to him tightly and she could feel her throat tighten as she thought of that. "Yes," she agreed in a whisper. "Yes, we do. One that will stand with us, no matter what."

His hold tightened, knowing she was thinking of her own mother. Finally, he released her and continued, "At any rate, to compensate for his unwillingness to have security personnel around him, he turned his skills to inventing systems to defend his family himself. This Compound is close to impregnable when it's on full alert. But it's 'smart' technology. It recognizes family members and ensures that no stray defensive shots come near them. Every defensive weapon in this place could be firing and you or I could walk out into the middle of it and never be touched. He also developed hand weapons that are more accurate than the most advanced anywhere. All of them can be set to stun only, so they don't have to be deadly, although they are fully capable of killing, too. But he won't let anyone else have them. He _knows_ the kind of use they would be put to. So the prototype weapons stay here."

"But, you used one at the hangar. I saw you."

Race shook his head. "No. That was a standard laser pistol . . . the kind the military uses . . . not one of the prototypes." Race frowned slightly. "Benton slipped yesterday. When I opened the case to let Jess pick the weapon she wanted to take with her, Benton warned her not to take any of the prototypes. Bennett caught it, and so did Barclay. They didn't say anything at the time, but that one's going to come back to haunt us. I'd be willing to stake my life on it."

Estella looked up at him with a troubled expression. "Race, how long can this go on? We can't keep arming ourselves to the hilt every time one of us has to set foot outside the fences of this Compound."

"I don't know, Stel," he replied with a sigh. "But I'll tell you this much. Benton Quest doesn't tolerate anyone threatening his family, and that includes making them hole up like rabbits. So the one thing you can bank on . . . it won't be long before we go on the offensive." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Conners' Residence  
Rockport, Maine**

"Would you get the candlesticks out of the closet in the back bedroom and put them on the table for me, please? It's Christmas and we might as well use them." 

Francesca stifled the urge to tell Lillian Conners just exactly where she'd really like to put her stupid candlesticks. Instead, she smiled pleasantly and said, "Sure." Leaving the kitchen, she crossed the house and disappeared into the back bedroom. She closed the door and flopped down on the bed, glaring at the snowcovered landscape outside. She hated this place! It was almost worse than that jail in Egypt . . . at least there, she hadn't had to pretend to be pleasant all the time. But the passing thought of the Egyptian jail caused her to shudder. No, on second thought, this was better . . . a whole _lot_ better, even if she did have to act gaggingly sweet all the time.

_Damn, Leeds, anyway,_ she thought fiercely. _He could have found someplace better for me to stay than here. I'm bored stiff and these people are driving me crazy!_ With a sudden, sharp ache she remembered previous Christmases with her father. They had had some really good times. There was the one year that they spent Christmas in Monte Carlo pulling that jewelry heist. Now that had been exhilarating. What a rush! They'd made really good money off of that one, too . . . hadn't had to pull another job for almost three months. And what about the year they spent Christmas on the beach in Bimini because they'd managed to scam this old woman out of a small fortune on a land development scheme. Francesca smiled wistfully. Those were good times. Thinking about those times make her realize just how much she really missed her father. He was really good and they made a good team. He could steal most anything and had the kind of smile that could make women believe anything. She was lucky that she had inherited that trait from him. Twisting men around her finger came so easily.

That thought made her think of Bobby Evans and she grimaced. What a rube. Talk about boring! He simply had no idea how to let go and have a good time. The only fun she'd been having in the lousy place was getting him to loosen up. She grinned maliciously. It had been pretty funny the night she'd gotten him drunk. That had given her a good laugh. He could hardly even stand up when she finally sent him home. She'd actually kind of hoped he'd wreck the car. Then she could have played the devoted girlfriend in the hospital when Jonny came to visit. That would have made him sit up and pay attention. She scowled. But Bobby'd managed to make it home in one piece, screwing up her plans again. This town just seemed custom designed to give her grief!

Francesca sat brooding for a long time. She had some scores to settle here . . . particularly the one with Ms. Bannon . . . but she was going to be really glad when she'd managed to get her father out of jail and they could be out of this place. It had been nothing but trouble from the day they set foot here. She'd even be willing to let everything else go if she could just free her father and settle up with Bannon! A slow smile began to form as she thought again of the idea that had occurred to her during her conversation with Leeds. The more she thought about it, the better she liked it. Get Leeds to take out Jessie Bannon . . . that would work. A nice, safe way to get rid of her for good. She didn't even care how he accomplished it . . . well, didn't care much, at any rate. She'd prefer it be something slow and painful, but as long as dead was the end result, he could pretty much do it however he pleased. It would take some serious pushing on her part, she was sure of that. As obsessed as Leeds was about bringing down Baxter, Race Bannon still seemed to have some kind of weird influence over the man. It was like he was scared of him or something. Bannon was an old man, for God's sake! Surely Leeds could take care of him if he got in the way . . .

The one thing that had kept her going while she was in that Egyptian jail was the knowledge that, one way or the other, she was going to get out and make Jessie Bannon pay. It was all her fault that the operation for Baxter had fallen apart. Things had been going fine until that red-headed bitch had to go sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. She had had Jonny Quest right where she wanted him. Another few days and he would have given her anything she asked . . . they wouldn't even had had to take it.

Memories of the time she had spent with Jonny flashed across her mind like fading photographs, and she found herself wanting those times back. She had enjoyed the hours she'd spent with him . . . listening to him talk about the places he'd been and the things he'd done . . . about his father and brother. It was strange, but she'd never been bored around him. In fact, she'd enjoyed his company so much that a couple of times she'd caught herself wishing she could stay beyond the completion of the job. She'd had to be so careful, because he seemed to be able to make her want to talk about herself. A couple of times, she'd even thought about telling him the truth. Abruptly, she sat up again and shook her head. _Don't be an idiot,_ she told herself sharply. _He never would have understood what it was like for Father and me._ She berated herself for being a besotted fool. Jonny Quest was a do-gooder of the worst sort . . . the kind who really believed he could make a difference. Well, she knew better . . . had learned a long time ago that there were three kinds of people in this world . . . the kind that have, the kind that don't have, and the sheep . . . the ones that don't have and don't know the difference. Well, she was going to be one of the kind that have . . . and she'd get rid of anyone who got in her way! Including Jonny Quest or Jessie Bannon. _Especially, Jessie Bannon,_ she thought vindictively. _I'm going to **enjoy** getting rid of her! _

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Unspecified Location**

"We need the Bannon girl," Julia Canova said flatly. 

"No!" Edgerton snapped. "We do not try for any of the Quests unless we have absolutely no other choice."

"We HAVE no other choice!" Julia replied coldly. "If you want Surd, you're going to _have_ to get me Jessie Bannon. She holds the key to it all. She was the one who put Jeremiah in this condition and knows how to get him out of it, she has all the access codes to their computer system, _and_ she means enough to Benton Quest that he'll barter for her life. You get me that girl, and I'll give you the rest of it."

"How can you be so sure that Surd will cooperate once you wake him up?" Baxter asked the woman.

Julia smiled . . . a particularly nasty smile. "Because with the Bannon girl in hand, you can give Jeremiah all _he'll_ ever want . . . revenge against the girl for what she did to him, AND the key to destroying her father."

"Aren't any of you listening to me???" Edgerton practically screamed. "If you start pushing those people, they are going to push back. Our advance team already says that the Quests are warned . . . no surprise there . . ." he added sarcastically, with a disgusted look at his employer, " . . . and have their residence and research facility on alert. If you try to capture one of them, particularly one of their children, there won't be anyplace you can hide. Benton Quest has a reputation for a reason. He's smart and creative and has almost the same kind of resources _you_ do." Edgerton pointed a warning finger at Baxter. "Plus, with Race Bannon in his corner, he's got the experience and contacts to put pressure where it's going to hurt."

"Sir . . ." A white-coated technician stepped forward hesitantly, looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

"What is it?" Baxter demanded irritably.

"Sir, the head of your advanced team in Maine is on hold for you. Says he has new information . . ."

Baxter reached out and smacked a button the console in front of him with his fist. Both Edgerton and the technician winced, wondering if the equipment would work at all after such a blow. "Speak!" Baxter thundered. The voice that replied was coldly impersonal and sounded hollow through the speakers that broadcast the words to the various people sitting around the table in the meeting room.

"There have been some new developments here that I felt you should be made aware of."

"Well, what are they?"

"You are aware that there was a large party that involved the entire Quest family last night?"

"Yes, yes," Baxter replied impatiently. Then he glared at Edgerton. "It would have been the perfect opportunity to take Quest . . ."

"At the time, I concurred with that assessment. However, one of the things I felt you should know is that event was heavily guarded . . . by military personnel."

Edgerton sat forward quickly. "Military?" he demanded sharply. "You're certain of that?"

"Yes! There were senior personnel in military uniforms in open attendance, as well as top-notch people covering the outside. It was all we could do not to be spotted."

"Numbers?" Edgerton persisted.

"No way to be certain. We spotted personnel covering a church in Camden, another group covering a hotel in Bangor, and men have now been spotted on the grounds outside of the Quest Compound itself."

"What were they doing at a church?" Julia asked, intrigued.

"A wedding, from the look of it. The reception appeared to be what was held in the hotel in Bangor."

"Were you able to tell who got married?" she asked.

"No, but it did appear it was one of the family. We were unable to get close enough to determine exactly what went on. Security was extremely tight."

Julia sat back, looking thoughtful. Glancing over at her brother, she commented softly, "Now I wonder who that could have been?"

"The Quest kid, maybe?" Lorenzo ventured. "Didn't we hear that him and the Bannon girl had hooked up?"

"Maybe, Julia said, sounding unconvinced. "That might explain the military personnel in attendance at the wedding, but not the ones posted on the facility itself."

"_That_ is explained by the botched attempt on Bannon the night before," Edgerton replied in a biting tone.

"Another thing . . ." the man on the phone continued.

"Yes?" Baxter replied, totally engrossed now.

"A former associate has been spotted in Rockport . . . one we thought was out of commission."

"Who?"

"The Hamilton girl."

"That black-hearted little vixen from the Cairo operation?"

"That's the one."

"What is she doing there? I thought she was still incarcerated in Egypt."

"Apparently not. From what we can gather, she's been here for a little more than a month. She is staying with a family in Rockport and attending school there. By all appearances, she has simply settled down."

Baxter laughed harshly. "That one? Not hardly. If she's there, it's for a reason."

Edgerton sat forward, looking something other than angry for the first time. "She could be useful . . ."

"_If_ she can be trusted," Baxter muttered darkly. "She botched the Cairo job badly enough."

"That wasn't her doing," Edgerton disagreed. "That was Keller's mess. And it just goes to prove my point . . . that entire operation came crashing down because Keller damned near killed the Bannon girl. We don't need to put ourselves back in the same position again!"

"I don't want her _dead_," Julia snapped. "I want her in my hands. Both Quest and Bannon will do what they're told if we're holding the girl. You can bet on it." She turned back to Baxter. "We're going to go nowhere until we can crack the Quest's defenses. Getting into that Compound to take it by force is out of the question. There are major military powers who are less well defended than that place is. And even if we could take it by force, you can bet there would be nothing left to find once we got there. I'll tell you something else, too. There are only three people in that Compound who have the knowledge to give you what you want . . . Quest himself, the Indian boy, and the Bannon girl. Of those three, the Bannon girl is our best bet. Benton Quest is a man of integrity." Julia made it sound like a dirty word. "I can promise you that if it's him you bring in, you will never get what you want. He'll die first. The boy . . . Hadji . . . has some Indian mystique thing going for him. He'll simply retreat into his mind and you'll never even faze him. That leaves the girl."

Baxter shook his head. "She's a child. There is no way Quest would have told her what we need to know."

"It doesn't matter," Julia countered confidently. "She holds the key to what happened to Jeremiah. Get her and you free him, and then you no longer need Quest."

"What about Quest's boy?" Edgerton said reluctantly, finally giving in to the inevitable. "You seem to be discounting him from the equation. Surely, what one boy knows, the other does. Particularly when you consider that the Indian boy isn't even Quest's son."

"Don't make that mistake," she warned. "Quest doesn't make the distinction. As far as he's concerned, both are his sons. That one is naturally born and the other is adopted makes no difference to him. As for Jonny Quest knowing what we need? If he is the one that comes to us readily, we can try, but that one is a crapshoot. The kid is bright and adaptable, but his strong suit is NOT research -- it's application. The kid can operate anything his father can build, but theory and technicalities? No, that's not what he's best at."

"If I can make a comment?" the man on the phone said.

"What is it?"

"I think the Bannon girl is outside of the Compound right now."

The tumult of questioning voices was drown out by Baxter's bellow. "WHAT???"

"There are two teenage girls in Camden right now that have been using a Quest vehicle. It's parked out on the street right now. I don't know the Bannon girl on sight, but I assume she must be one of them. I've got a man keeping an eye on them."

"Guards?" Edgerton demanded.

"Manageable. Two men in a car tailing them and an additional two shadowing the building where they are working, appears to be it."

"Who is the other girl?" Edgerton asked.

"I have no idea, although I think she may have been among those at the wedding the day before. A local friend perhaps."

"And none of the other members of the family?" Julia demanded.

"No. Only those two."

"Take her . . . NOW. And if you can't determine which one is the right one, take both of them. We can get rid of the other one later." Baxter instructed sharply.

"But do it quietly," Edgerton added urgently. "The longer we keep the other members of that family from knowing we have her, the more time we buy ourselves to disappear."

"You'll have her by morning." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**City Street  
Camden, Maine**

Jessie and Kefira walked out of the Community Center in the middle of Camden and paused to inhale a deep breath of the clear, cold night air. It was a little after 7:00 p.m., and the street was dark. Jessie looked up and gazed at the wealth of stars in the night sky. 

"It's just beautiful tonight," she commented to her companion.

"Yes, it is," Kefira agreed. "If there were fewer buildings, it would remind me a great deal of home."

Jessie glanced at her. "Do you miss it?"

"Yes, sometimes I miss it very much." Then she turned and smiled at Jessie. "But I would not change it for anything. I love it here. Everything is so new . . . so different. And people have been so nice to me. I feel . . . " Kefira trailed off as though hesitant to say what she was thinking.

"What?" Jessie prompted her.

Kefira hesitated a bit longer and then said, "I feel as though I belong here. Not like I do at home . . ."

The two girls descended the stairs and walked toward the van that was parked against the curb a couple of blocks up the street. For a minute, neither of them said anything. Finally, Jessie said, "You want to talk about it?"

Kefira shrugged. "I am not sure what to say. I-I do not really know if I can make you understand what it is like."

"So try. I'm willing to listen."

The two girls were in no hurry as they strode leisurely through the cold night air.

"I guess, if I have to try to describe it, I would have to say that I just do not really seem to fit. Oh, my family loves me. That is not what I mean. It is just that . . . I guess I do not fit into any of the standard molds. I seem to want things that no one else even considers reasonable. Even my sister Maia, who will probably end up in a sisterhood somewhere, is more accepted than I am. I have always seemed too smart, too ambitious, too . . . " she looked at Jessie in frustration. "I really do not know how to explain."

"You don't have to," Jessie assured her. "I understand perfectly. It's not easy to want things that are considered unacceptable for your gender. You're just lucky your father supports what you want."

"But he did not . . . at least not until very recently. It was Hadji who made him change his mind."

Jessie looked at her in surprise. "Really? He never told us that."

She nodded. "I still do not know what he said to Father, but whatever it was, it caused him to completely change his attitude."

"Well, that's Hadji. I swear he could talk the spots off of a leopard."

An impish grin tugged at the corner of Kefira's mouth. "Did he ever tell you about the night we met?"

Jessie lit up in anticipation. "No! He just said that he ran into you at the palace."

Kefira's laughter rang clearly in the night air. "That is exactly what happened. He came around a blind corner moving very quickly and all but knocked me off my feet. He sent my textbooks flying all over the hallway and I almost went with them. I was so angry!" Jessie could almost see her blush even in the darkness. "I was not very nice to him, I am afraid."

"It must have taken guts to chew him out, though, what with him being the Sultan and all."

"Oh, I had no idea who he was. I-I thought he was one of the palace servants."

Jessie crowed in delight. "A _servant_! Oh, man, am I going to get some mileage out of this! Just wait until Jonny hears. He'll never let Hadji hear the end of it . . ."

"Oh, Jessie, please," Kefira said, suddenly alarmed. "Please do not tell him I told you. If he did not tell you himself, perhaps he does not want you to know. I do not want to embarrass him . . ."

Jessie was still laughing as she unlocked the doors to the van and they climbed inside. "Girlfriend, you have got a lot to learn about men . . . and Hadji in particular. This is the kind of thing you are _supposed_ to abuse them over! Because, believe me, they'll do the same thing to you given half a chance." Then she shrugged. "Furthermore, you'd have to do a lot worse than rib him about mowing you down in a hallway to disrupt the way he feels about you. I saw him watching you go down the aisle yesterday at Mom and Dad's wedding. Man, he has fallen for you _**HARD**_."

"You really think so?" Kefira replied anxiously.

"Oh, I know so. I've seen Hadji appear to be interested in girls before, but nothing even close to this!"

"So tell me about some of his old girlfriends," Kefira urged, grinning.

"Uh uh. Not now. I told you . . . we're gonna save that for the Christmas party." The two of them laughed companionably as Jessie nosed the van out into the street and turned toward home. In her rearview mirror, Jessie watched as a non-descript white sedan pulled out several blocks back and began following her down the street. "We've still got our shadow," Jessie commented to the other girl.

Kefira craned forward to get a better angle out of the right side mirror. "I see him. Do you think he is one of the men that Admiral Bennett was trying to get Dr. Quest to agree to?"

"Oh, yeah. No doubt. That car has 'government dweeb' written all over it."

"You do not like the government people very much," Kefira observed, looking over at Jessie.

Jess shrugged and made a left turn out onto the highway, "No, not much, I guess. Too many of the experiences I've had with government types like that have been bad, and they really did mess with my father's head when he worked for them. They were largely what caused my parent's divorce."

"I didn't like Admiral Bennett very much."

"Actually, Admiral Bennett is okay. Most of the time, at any rate. I don't trust Leeds much, though."

"Neither do I," Kefira agreed fervently. "There is something about him that bothers me a great deal."

"Now what the heck . . ." Jessie applied the brakes and came to an abrupt halt, joining a line of about six cars that were sitting stopped in the roadway. She peered out the front window and spotted an officer in a brown Knox County sheriff's uniform. Rolling down her window, she called out to the man, "Sheriff Halley!"

The man ambled over the to van and gave the two girls a friendly smile. "Evening Ms. Bannon . . . miss."

"What's up?" Jessie asked.

Halley wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Jackknifed semi. Evidently hit a slick spot on the road, over corrected on the skid, and rolled the truck."

"Is the driver okay?" Jessie asked in concern.

"Shaken up, but otherwise unhurt. His load's spread all over the road, though. It's going to take a long time to clean up the mess."

"Any chance the road's going to be open soon?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say not before midnight. He was hauling a full load of building supplies . . . things like nails, screws, that sort of stuff and it was all in bulk. When the truck rolled, it split the trailer like a tin can and all that stuff spilled out onto the roadway. If it doesn't get cleaned up thoroughly, every car that passes through there will end up with flat tires."

"What a mess!" Jessie exclaimed.

"You got that right."

Jessie sighed in frustration. "Well, I don't feel like waiting here for six or seven hours for this to clear. Surely there's another way around it."

Halley shook his head ruefully. "Accident happened right at the junction of Route 1 and State Route 90. Got both roads totally closed down. You tryin' to get home?"

"Yeah."

"Best you're gonna be able to do, probably, is backtrack into Camden and take 105 and 235 over to East Union, pick up 17 down to West Rockport and on through to Rockland. There you can pick up Route 1 again and head back north to get to your place."

"That's close to 40 miles!" Jessie exclaimed. "What about the road through Simonton Corners? That would cut off almost all of that distance."

"Yeah, but that road goes down through the valley and crosses Goose River." Halley said. "Last I knew, they hadn't managed to get the river crossing cleared. If you could get across the river, you could get through, but there's about a quarter mile of it that's still impassible."

"Oh, fine." Jessie said in disgust and looked over at Kefira. "I'm having no luck with vehicles lately. Day before yesterday, we were here on snowmobiles and I was wishing for the van. Today we're here in the van, and now I'm wishing for the snowmobiles. I can't win."

Halley laughed. "Well, I wish you luck, ladies."

"Thanks, Sheriff! Stay warm!"

The man waved as he moved away. Jessie looked at Kefira and said, "Well, now what?"

"We seem to have a number of choices. We can wait here until the road opens . . ."

" . . . or we can go back into Camden and wait there . . . "Jessie said.

" . . . or we can take the route the policeman suggested . . ." Kefira added.

" . . . OR we can go check out the road to Simonton Corners and see if maybe . . . just maybe . . . they got it cleared near the end of the day and we can make it through. If we can, it's going to make the distance 10 miles instead of 40."

Kefira looked out the rearview mirror again, spotting the white car a short way back. "We still have our escort."

"Which means we've got back up. I say we check out the road to Simonton Corners. If it's not open, we haven't gone that far out of our way and we can still double back and pick up Route 105 and go the other way."

"I am willing," Kefira said agreeably. "We probably should call and warn your father, however. Either way, we are going to be late and he will be concerned."

"Good point," Jessie agreed. She reached out, flipped open the center console, and reached in for the cell phone. She groped around for a minute and then began to mutter. "Confound it, Quest, if you didn't put the stupid phone back in the car, I'm gonna shoot you!" She reached up and flipped on the map light and stared down into the console. Then she smacked it solidly. "Oh, when I get my hands on you . . ." She looked up at Kefira. "No cell phone."

"Where is it?"

"At home, probably. We don't normally have them on the snowmobiles, so when we took off the other morning he had to have snagged one from somewhere. I'd say he took the one from the van and never put it back."

"Is it possible that it is in the back somewhere?"

"I guess it could be, although it seems a strange place for him to put it."

"I will check." Kefira slid out of her seat and worked her way into the back of the van. Jessie could hear her rummaging around, opening and closing storage bins, and shifting boxes. Finally, she returned to the front and slid back into her seat. "It is not there. What do you think we should do now?"

"Oh, screw it. I'm tired and I want to get home. Let's just go for it and make our apologies when we get there. I just don't feel up to going into Camden and searching for a working pay phone. Furthermore, I don't think I have any change."

"I know I do not," Kefira said. "I put all of the loose change I had into the donation jar at the Community Center."

Jessie backed the van up and made a sharp U-turn, heading back the way she had come. As they approached the white sedan, she slowed and rolled down her window again. She could see the startled expressions of the two men as she pulled along side and gestured at them. Both men looked to be in their late twenties with short, military-style haircuts. The driver rolled down his window and said hesitantly, "Can I help you?"

"Just thought you'd want to know that the road's closed and we're going to take an alternate route home." She grinned at him. "Didn't want you wondering what was up." She waved as they started moving again. "Later!"

Kefira was giggling in the seat next to her. "Did you see his face??? He looked so surprised that you knew he was there."

"Oh, yeah, like he was so hard to miss!" Jessie said with good-natured sarcasm. Neither girl paid any attention at all to the dark SUV that sat four cars behind the white sedan, and who pulled out to follow the other two cars a few moments later. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Conners' Residence  
Rockport, Maine**

Francesca was sullenly standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes when the phone rang. Christmas dinner had been served and eaten, gifts had been opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Conners were now in the living room watching TV with their two kids. Mrs. Conners had volunteered to help, but Francesca had insisted in her best, saccharine manner, that she could manage. _**Anything** to get away from them for a while,_ she thought darkly. 

The door to the kitchen opened and the eldest of the two children stuck his head in. "Bobby's on the phone for you," he said.

"'K. Thanks," she replied and reached for a dish towel. She walked across the room and picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

"Hey, Francesca."

"Hi, Bobby," she replied, putting all the warmth and pleasure she could muster into her voice. "It's so good to hear from you."

"Yeah, you too," he replied sounding thoroughly smitten. "I really did . . ."

"Hold on a second, okay? Jeffrey Conners, you hang up that phone, you hear me?" There was dead silence. "Hang it up NOW," she repeated in a warning tone.

"Aw heck, I wanted to hear some mushy stuff," a third voice on the line said.

"Hang . . . it . . . up!" she said firmly, and after a minute there was a distinct click as the extension was hung up in another part of the house.

Bobby was chuckling. "I didn't even realize he was there."

"He likes to eavesdrop," Francesca said in disgust. Then, without thinking, she added, "You really have to watch the little weasel."

"Oh, come on, Francesca," Bobby said, sounding disconcerted. "He's just a kid. All kids are like that. He doesn't mean anything by it."

Kicking herself silently, she said, "Oh, of course he doesn't! I didn't mean to sound that way." She thought frantically, trying to find a way to explain the slip. It's just . . . "

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked gently.

"I-I've just been feeling a little . . . I don't know . . . lost, I guess. Like I . . . " she sighed deeply. "I don't know. I can't explain it, Bobby. I'm lonely, I guess. And I miss my Dad. I know he wasn't the greatest father in the world, but he's still my Dad . . . and it is Christmas . . . and . . . "

"Of course you miss him! It wouldn't be right if you didn't."

"Oh, Bobby, you're so great! I'm really lucky to have found a guy like you."

"Oh, hey, it's nothing. I just like being with you, that's all . . ."

"Yeah, but still. I mean, you've even stood up to Jonny." Oh, she was on a roll now! "I never wanted to come between the two of you. I know he was your best friend and all."

"Well, he wasn't a very good one then, was he? He has no right to get so high and mighty. You're my girlfriend . . . he can't pick and chose. I'm lucky enough to have you come back here and be interested in me, and if he can't deal with that, then screw him."

"You were just so nice to me," Francesca said. Then, in a suggestive voice that was as soft and caressing as silk, she added, "I wish you were here right now . . ." Bobby's breath caught in his throat, and Francesca's mouth curved up in a tiny, triumphant smile. "Can we get together this evening? I'd really like to be with you right now."

The smile disappeared as Bobby hesitated. Finally, he said, "I probably better not. My Dad's still pretty burnt about the other night."

"But why?" she asked, sounding hurt. "All we did was have a little fun. We didn't hurt anything."

"I know, but he's just being a pain about it."

"I really would like to see you," she urged him shamelessly. "I miss you so much . . ."

"I miss you, too," he replied, clearly weakening. "Maybe we could meet later . . ."

Suddenly, in the background from Bobby's end of the phone, Francesca heard an irritated voice. She couldn't hear what was said, but Bobby's voice turned sharp and angry. "Hey, I'm on the phone, okay? I'll be done in a while." The voice said something else, to which Bobby replied, "It's none of your business! Just get lost." There was another string of incoherent comments from the other voice, to which Bobby replied. "All right, all right. I'll be done in a minute!" There was a brief silence and then Francesca heard the clear sound of a door slamming. Then Bobby said regretfully, "Look, I better go. There's no way I'm going to be able to get out of here tonight. My Dad's watching me like a vulture. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Nothing," Francesca replied, putting all the hurt and loneliness she could muster into her voice.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow morning around 5:30 down on the corner near your house. That should be early enough to get me out before my father can latch onto me. We'll go skiing or something . . . spend the day together. What do you say?"

"That sounds wonderful!" she replied fervently.

"Okay, I'll see you then . . ."

"I'll be waiting . . . " she said in that same suggestive voice. "Goodbye, Bobby . . ."

"Bye."

Francesca hung up the phone and smiled to herself. Well, it may not be a great way to spend the day, but if nothing else, she ought to be able to entertain herself tomorrow. God, he was so easy . . . 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Perimeter, Quest Compound**

The loud popping crackle of radio static brought two men running through the snow to the site of a military vehicle parked in the woods outside the Quest Compound. As they neared the vehicle, they could hear a voice repeating, "Mobile two to home base, do you read? This is mobile two. Home base, do you copy?" 

"Mobile two, this is home base. We read you. What is your status?"

"Home base, we are traveling northbound on U.S. Route 1 approaching the intersection of state route 105."

"Are you still in contact with the assigned subjects?" The man asked sharply. Looking at his companion, he snapped. "That's the wrong direction . . . get me a map!"

"Yes, sir. We are trailing the Quest van about four car lengths back."

"That's too close! They'll spot you."

The resignation was clear in the young soldier's voice as he replied, "Oh, they've already done that, Lieutenant. In fact, they stopped to tell us that they were taking an alternate route due to the road closure." He then proceeded to explain what had transpired. "We're now following them, however I don't know where they're heading."

The lieutenant sighed and looked at the three other men who had gathered around him. "These people do not make our jobs easy." After contemplating the map for a minute, he shook his head and said into the microphone, "Okay, stay on them. There are too many possibilities to be able to figure out what they're planning. Just keep your eyes open and let me know when they pick a course."

"Yes, sir. Mobile two out."

The lieutenant stared hard at the map and finally muttered to himself, "I don't like this . . . I don't like it at all." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Maine Countryside**

"Well, so far, so good," Jessie said, turning carefully on to the snowpacked side street. "This is our turnoff." 

Kefira peered through the window at the sign that said 'Mechanic Street' and asked, "And this goes right where we need to go?"

"No, we'll take this to the edge of town and then turn south on a country road that goes to Simonton Corners."

"Is this town large?" Kefira inquired uneasily as she watched the shadowed storefronts slide past in the dark. Other than the car that remained diligently behind them, there didn't seem to be another living soul around.

"No, it's mainly just a crossroads with a couple of houses and an old mill that sits on the river. It's got a name because the Simonton family has lived there forever. Okay, here we are." Jessie applied the brakes and they skidded slightly as they came to a stop. The two girls looked around carefully. "Well, I don't see any 'road closed' signs," she said hopefully.

"Yes, but that road is extremely narrow and the snow is over halfway up the windows on both sides. If it is open and we meet another car coming in the other direction we are going to have a problem."

"You want to go back?" Jessie asked her companion.

Kefira thought about it for a moment and then glanced in the mirror again. The white car had stopped some distance behind them and appeared to be waiting. In the distance, Kefira caught the flash of headlights, as another vehicle turned onto Mechanic Street. Then they disappeared, and Kefira decided the car must have pulled in someplace. Finally, she shook her head. "I do not know this area. I will let you decide. If you think we can get though, then I am willing to try it."

Jessie looked around her again. "This looks freshly plowed. And the snow is so high to either side because of the snowplow. You can see that it's not nearly as deep once you're past the berms. I think the odds are good that they managed to clear it right before dark and Sheriff Halley just hadn't heard about it. I say we try it."

Kefira nodded in agreement and Jessie released the brake and advanced slowly into the narrow, high-walled track. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Perimeter, Quest Compound**

"Home base, this is mobile two." 

"Go ahead, mobile two," the lieutenant replied immediately.

"The subjects have just turned off of Mechanic Street in Camden onto a narrow track that appears to lead out into the countryside. It is narrow but appears passable."

The lieutenant immediately looked alarmed and began staring at the map again. "Is there any kind of sign marking the track?"

"Negative. There are no route markers of any kind. I would say that the girl knows the area and knows where she's headed, however. She came directly to this track without any hesitation."

"What direction is she heading?"

"Southwest."

"This one, maybe?" he muttered to one of the men that had joined them, pointing to a small track on their topo map.

"That's little more than a dirt road," the other man objected. "Surely that hasn't even been plowed yet."

"Have you seen any sign of trouble? Anything at all?" the lieutenant asked. He had no reason to be concerned, but for some reason, he was becoming more and more uneasy.

"We did spot another vehicle shortly after we turned off of Route 105 onto Mechanic Street, however it appears to have disappeared. We assume it must have been going to one of the structures along the street in town."

"Alright, follow the van . . . and stick close. Be sure to keep in contact."

"Yes, sir. Mobile two out."

"I don't like it," the lieutenant said with conviction. "Something feels off." He thought briefly and then appeared to come to a decision. "I'm calling the Quest Compound."

"But, sir, " one of the men objected, "we aren't even supposed to be trailing that car. Our orders were very specific . . . to guard the grounds outside the facility. What if the people inside object to our following the vehicle?"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Admiral Bennett was very clear about the fact that these people were in serious danger. I don't want to be left in the position of trying to explain to the Admiral why I sat back and did nothing if something should happen to one of them." He snapped his fingers at one of his team members. "Give me the phone!" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Quest Compound**

"Aw, that was offsides!" Jonny complained loudly. 

"It was not!" Hadji objected. "He was drawn off. It was a false start."

"It was not," Jonny argued, pointing at the TV screen. "Yeah, he moved, but he was back in set position before the ball was snapped."

"How much time we got left?" Race asked settling back into his chair with a large plate of food.

"Four minutes, twenty-three seconds . . ." Jonny replied, eyeing Race's plate with interest. "Where'd you get that?"

Race gestured with this thumb. "Kitchen," he mumbled through a mouthful of turkey sandwich.

"The play clock is going to run out . . . no, there is the snap." Hadji said, riveted to the screen.

Abruptly, Jonny sat straight up, yelling, "BALL!" at the exact same time Hadji exclaimed, "FUMBLE!"

"TURNOVER!" Jonny shouted triumphantly, bouncing to his feet in excitement. Hadji just looked disgusted. Jonny nudged him sharply. "TV timeout. Come on, let's get something to eat quick before they come back from commercial break." Hadji leaped to his feet and the two of them sprinted toward the kitchen, almost knocking Estella to the floor as she came in the door. She ducked back against the wall, holding her plate high and uttered a surprised exclamation.

Benton looked up sharply and yelled after the two, "Watch where you're going!" He looked at Estella in concern. "Are you alright?"

She laughed a little breathlessly and replied, "Yes, I'm fine. But I can tell that I'm not accustomed to living in a house full of men. I'm going to have to pay closer attention when I come around blind corners."

Benton chuckled. "Especially when football is on."

Laughing, Estella headed for the sofa, but as she went by Race's chair, he reached an arm out and snagged her, pulling her down into the large, leather chair with him. "There's enough room here."

"I know nothing at all about football," she warned. "You know that."

"That's okay. We'll teach you."

Estella just shook her head. Then she looked over at Benton. "What have you been working on so diligently all day? I've hardly heard you say ten words."

Benton laughed and leaned back, stretching mightily. "I can get a bit single-minded sometimes. You'll find that out once you've been around here for a while."

Race snorted. "Single-minded? That's being kind! This is just a mild interest. When he really gets going, you won't hear him say a word for days and you practically have to shove food down his throat to get him to eat! I have also seen him fall asleep at his computer keyboard. I actually checked on him in the lab one day and he was just sort of propped up with his face squashed against the monitor, dead to the world."

"I never get _that_ bad!" Benton protested.

"Oh, yes, you do!" Jonny agreed coming back in with a heaping plate of food. "You and Hadji, both."

"Father and I call it 'dedication'," Hadji replied with great dignity, following Jonny in the door.

"What he said," Benton agreed with a grin. Then the smile dimmed. "I've actually spent the day going over what Isaac Wolenchek was able to tell me about that weapon and it's apparent faults, and trying to reconstruct what I think Victor Payson had done in the development. If I'm right, we actually may be better off than Bennett and his people think we are."

Race's attention sharpened. "Yeah? How do you figure that?"

Benton shook his head. "I've seen some of Payson's early work. It was heavily based on all of the prevailing theories on matrix development and it's application to computer modeling. That theory is fine . . . up to a point. But it rapidly reaches its limits when you begin demanding the level of multi-tasking that's required by fully immersive VR. The matrix system, no matter how complex, simply can't keep up with it. And that makes it a dead end. It will never be fully fluid, the way Payson envisioned it. In fact, if that's what he's done, then I would say that he's reached the absolute limit of what that weapon is capable of."

"I don't understand any of this," Estella complained.

Surprisingly, it was Jonny that spoke up. "Have you ever been waiting at a stop light, not really paying attention, and suddenly felt as though you were rolling, but when you look around you find that you're sitting perfectly still? If you look really closely, you'll probably find it's the car next to you or in front of you that's rolling, but it's caused you to feel like you were." Estella nodded. "It's the same sort of thing. When the system isn't fast enough or complex enough, your mind picks up cues from outside the simulation and you become disoriented and that's what causes the problems." Jonny shrugged. "It's one of the reasons young kids tend to be able to tolerate much longer exposures to video and arcade games than adults. They don't have quite the ability that an adult has of absorbing and analyzing multiple stimuli . . . they tend to focus solely on what's in front of them and close out the other stuff."

Benton looked at Jonny in amazement. "Very good, Jonny!" he exclaimed. "That's an excellent analogy."

Jonny grinned back at his father. "Hey, just because I'm not great at developing the stuff, doesn't mean I don't understand how it works."

"You all sound as though you've seen it done better," Estella commented. "Does that mean that someone else has managed to develop a system that works better?"

They all exchanged a look, and it was Jonny who replied. "Yeah, we've seen it done a whole lot better. IRIS is part of a fully immersive VR system. Hasn't Jessie ever mentioned QuestWorld to you?"

Estella frowned. "Yeeessss," she said slowly, thinking carefully. "I seem to remember she's mentioned working in a simulation called QuestWorld. I assumed it was some sort of video game."

Race shook his head. "QuestWorld isn't a program. It's an entire set of programs . . . an **adaptive** set of programs . . . that are all tied together to form a single environment. A wholly simulated environment."

"And then you can develop specific applications for that environment," Hadji added.

"Are you telling me that we have the very weapon that Bennett fears in this Compound?" Estella asked in horror.

"No," Benton replied. "Absolutely not. I will not allow QuestWorld to be used for those purposes."

"But then what do you use it for?" Estella asked, confused.

"QuestWorld has infinite possibilities," Hadji said solemnly. "You can program it to simulate the operation of a machine you are trying to invent to see if it will work, or you can use it to model weather systems when you're trying to predict storms."

"You can use it to train people to do things," Race added. "That was the pretense Bennett came here under . . . trying to develop fully immersive VR so that they can use it to train combat troops at a much lower cost."

"And not only military troops," Benton added. "You could use it to train students in specialized professions. Can you imagine how much more effective a cardiovascular surgeon would be if he's been through hundreds of fully accurate simulations of a heart replacement before he ever had to operate on a live patient?"

"We even used it once to rebuild a shattered Greek statue," Jonny said. "We scanned all the pieces into the computer, numbering each one as we went. Then we programmed IRIS to rebuild the statue. She rebuilt it in 3-D in QuestWorld and then gave us a chart with each piece numbered so that we knew how to reassemble it. Kinda like putting Humpty Dumpty back together again. It's really amazing and a whole lot of fun." He grinned at Estella. "Remind us, and Jess and I will take you into it and teach you how to play a couple of the games we've developed for it. You'll never look at video games the same way again."

Estella looked at Benton Quest in amazement. "But this is incredible! Why haven't I ever heard anything about this?"

"Because only a very few people outside of this room even know it exists," Benton replied gravely. Tapping the monitor at his elbow, he said, "And this is why. For all the good that a system like this could do, it's potential for harm is equally great. QuestWorld would be capable of turning Victor Payson's weapon into an almost unstoppable killing machine. I can't . . . I _**WON'T**_ . . . be a party to unleashing something like that on the world. I'll destroy it first."

The shrill ring of the phone ripped through the dead silence causing all of them to flinch. After a moment's hesitation, Hadji leaned out of his chair and picked up the phone. "Hello? Yes, he is here. May I tell him who is calling? Very well, just one moment." Hadji hit the hold button and passed the phone to Race, saying, "The gentleman is hesitant to give his name, however he says that he is a co-worker of Admiral Bennett."

Race nodded. "Five will get you ten, it's the officer in charge of the unit outside the Compound." He took the phone and, hitting the hold button again, he said, "Bannon." Almost immediately, he began to frown. "Blocked? Blocked how? They did what? When? What do you mean, you don't know where they are?" Race looked at Jonny and Hadji and then snapped, "Hold on. Do you know a country road off of something called Mechanic Street in Camden?"

The two young men exchanged a look and Jonny immediately nodded. "Yeah. It's the road that leads down to Simonton Corners."

"What the hell would Jessie and Kefira be doing going there at this hour of the night?"

Both young men sat up abruptly, looking seriously concerned. "I don't know," Jonny said. "What's blocked?"

"Route 1, supposedly. The lieutenant in charge of the troops outside the perimeter said he felt uneasy today, and so when Jessie and Kefira left this afternoon, he put a tail on them. His men report that Jessie told them the road is blocked, and when the Lieutenant contacted the Sheriff's Office, they said an overturned semi has it closed. Evidently, when Jessie and Kefira discovered they couldn't get through, they turned around and headed out of town on this country road."

"Jonny, is the cell phone in the van?" Benton snapped, surging to his feet and beginning to pace.

"Yeah, it is."

"Go get the phone in my study and call her. Let's find out what's going on," his father instructed.

"Hold on, Lieutenant. We're going to try and contact my daughter and find out exactly what they're doing."

"You know," Hadji said thoughtfully, "if the main road is blocked, she may be trying to take a bypass. The road to Simonton Corners crosses the river and goes on down to West Rockport. From there, they could get on either State Route 17 or 90. Both would take them back to Route 1. Do we know where it is blocked?"

Race directed the question to the man on the phone and then said, "Right at the junction of Route 1 and Maine 90."

"Then they are heading for Route 17 in West Rockport. They are trying to go around."

"I know that road," Benton said in concern. "It's not great even in the best weather. I don't like to think of what it's liable to be like in all this snow."

"Why the hell didn't she call?" Race demanded, sounding angry. "She knows better than this."

"It's not answering," Jonny said, sounding seriously concerned as he came striding back into the family room. "It just keeps ringing and then going to the message about the party not being available."

"Are you sure she had the phone with her, Jonny?" Benton asked.

"I'm positive," he said with conviction. "I helped them load the food in the van and I knew we'd had it out a couple of days before. I went and got it, checked the battery charge, and put it in the center console myself, right before they left."

"I don't like this . . . " Estella said.

Suddenly, a loud clear warning tone began to sound and IRIS announced, "WARNING! EMERGENCY ALARM HAS BEEN ACTIVATED ON VEHICLE QUEST 2. PRIORITY CALL FOR ASSISTANCE HAS BEEN RECEIVED." The computer paused for a second and then continued, "SENSORS INDICATE THE VEHICLE IS UNDER HEAVY ATTACK BY UNKNOWN ASSAILANTS APPROXIMATELY SIX MILES NORTHWEST OF THIS LOCATION."

"They're under attack, Lieutenant!" Race barked as everyone ran for the door. "Can your men reach them? Well, have them try. We're on our way!" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Maine Countryside**

The first volley of shots came without warning, striking the roof of the van and ricocheting off in a series of loud whines. Jessie slammed on the brakes and the van fishtailed on the slick road. "Those are gunshots," she yelled, fighting the skidding vehicle. 

Kefira leaned downward, unconsciously attempting to make herself a smaller target against the large windows and searched the dark countryside. "Where are they coming from?" she demanded.

"They have to be behind us," Jessie said, trying to accelerate again. "There's no way they got by us, and they couldn't have anticipated ahead of time that we'd come this way."

They heard another round of gunshots, but this time they appeared to be directed elsewhere. They were immediately followed by the sound of returning gunfire somewhere behind them.

"This was a trap?" Kefira demanded incredulously, pulling the pistol and holding it at ready.

"Don't know and doesn't matter," Jessie replied grimly, slamming on the brakes again, and deliberately forcing the van into a spin. The back end snapped around sharply and both girls were jolted as it came to an abrupt halt, wedged firmly into the snow banks at a 90-degree angle to the roadway. "It worked, whether it was planned or not. We have got to get out of this van. We're sitting ducks in here!" Reaching out toward the dashboard, Jessie clawed at a piece of black plastic, which popped out into her hand. Kefira couldn't see what it was in the dark, but Jessie brought her fist down on it sharply, and then rose and scrambled between the two front seats and into the back of the van.

"What was that?" Kefira asked, clamoring after her. More shots sounded in the night and the safety glass in the front window suddenly fractured into thousands of small pieces. Both young women ducked instinctively, however the windshield held.

"Panic button," Jessie replied as she began clawing frantically at a pile of linen that was stacked in the back of the van. Snatching up two large white tablecloths, she turned back and shoved them into Kefira's hands. "It sends a signal to the Compound that we're in trouble. We've got help on the way, but we've got to last until they can get here!" Scrambling back toward the front of the van again, she knelt behind the console and began working at the base of it. Kefira watched as the back of the unit popped off, revealing some sort of electronic device. Jessie pressed a button on one side and the device suddenly came to life in a rainbow of colored lights. In the upper corner a yellow light began to flash. Jessie quickly keyed a series of numbers into a small keypad and, abruptly, the flashing yellow light turned to a steadily shining red beacon. She grabbed a small, palm-sized device and shoved it into Kefira hands, as well. "Here," she said sharply. "Hang onto this, and whatever you do, don't push the button in the middle of it!"

Both girls dropped flat as a series of bullets slammed into the side of the van facing the white sedan. "Definitely behind us," Kefira said. Jessie noted with detached approval that the Indian girl sounded a bit breathless but showed no trace of panic. "You said something about getting out of this vehicle, I believe?"

"Yes! Hold on just a second . . ." Jessie gathered her feet up under her and, with an abrupt movement, she dived back into the front seat. Reaching through the steering wheel, she struck the headlight switch and the van went totally dark. Groping her way back in the dark, she felt her way along with line of the roof until she located the interior dome light. She worked her nails up underneath the plastic and yanked on it until it popped loose in her hands. Reaching up into the fixture, she grabbed and pulled hard. After a moment's resistance, the entire interior assembly pulled away from its mount. With a second yank, she ripped it out, leaving wires dangling. "There," she panted, "that will disrupt the entire lighting circuit and we should be able to get out without any of the lights going on to warn them we're moving."

Kefira had been crouched, motionless, listening to the exchange of gunfire outside. "I believe we may have lost one of our defenders," she said. "There does not appear to be as much return fire as there was before."

"Then it's time for us to move." Taking the linen back from the other girl, she crouched in front of the door and said, "Let's go . . . out the side door of the van, stay low, and head straight up the road as fast as you can go." Jessie reached down and pulled the handle, opening the door.

"Would it not be better to stay near the van?" Kefira hissed in a low voice as she slid through and hit the ground. "It least it will provide some cover." Jessie joined her quickly, hitting the central locking button as she exited, and shutting the door behind her. Shoving Kefira ahead of her, both girls took off at a fast shuffle, staying crouched below the berms of snow.

"No," Jessie replied in a low whisper. "We can't hold out there until my Dad gets here. We need to buy ourselves some time. Let's go!" Slipping and sliding, the two girls moved away from the van as quickly as they could. As they ran, Jessie shook out one of the tablecloths that she held and shoved it at Kefira. "Here!" she whispered frantically. "Wrap this around you!"

As Kefira realized what Jessie was handing her, she sputtered in amazement. "What is this for?"

"We're dark shapes against pure white snow in bright moonlight. We're standing out like silhouettes. We need something to make us blend in better and this is the best I could do. Come on . . . and hurry!"

Jessie looked over her shoulder as they skidded along the track, trying to see what was going on behind them. Gunfire still sounded, but it was now sporadic, coming in fits and starts, rather than in a regular exchange. Suddenly, against the white of the snow, she saw dark shapes materialize around the van. "They've reached the van," Jessie whispered frantically. "Go! Quickly!"

In the clear night air, both of them could hear the sound of a fist striking the side of the vehicle and a man's voice calling out, "Open the door and you won't be hurt!" The fist struck the door several more times and the man swore sharply. "We'll break in if we have to. Make it easier on yourself!"

Jessie smacked Kefira in the back and then shoved her toward one of the piles of snow along the side of the road. "Up and over into the snow. _**NOW!**_" Both girls scaled the piled up snow and rolled down the other side. "Give me that thing I handed you," Jessie demanded and Kefira passed it back to her swiftly. Holding her breath, Jessie waited for what she knew was coming. The instant she heard the gunshot, she pressed the button in the center of the small device and the next second, night turned into day as the van exploded into flames. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
The sound of the explosion reverberated through the clear night air, reaching the rest of the Quest family even over the scream of the snowmobile engines. They all looked up to see the remains of the flames and smoke billowing up into the sky above the trees. 

"Oh my God!" Estella cried, watching in horror. Race said nothing, grimly gunning the engine and speeding on at a break-neck speed. Out in front, both Jonny and Hadji rode like they were possessed, dodging trees and undergrowth deftly. They had been out the door and sprinting toward the storage shed almost before IRIS had been able to repeat her warning, pulling coats and gloves on as they went. Race would have preferred it if Estella had stayed behind, however she was having none of that, so he'd seated her behind him on one of the larger machines and told her sharply to hang on. They had crossed the Compound grounds, accelerating rapidly, and had erupted out of the front gate going at full speed, scattering military personnel in all directions. From the first, Jonny and Hadji had taken point. Race made no objections, knowing that both of them knew more about the surrounding land than any of the rest of them put together. Growing up, the two boys had spent hours exploring every square inch of the countryside for miles. They knew the roads, trails and woods intimately and either of them could find their way through them without any kind of assistance, even in the dark.

Initially, they had taken the access road out of the Compound, but when they hit the highway, neither of them had hesitated. Shooting straight across the road, they dove directly into the trees on the other side and set off in a straight line cross-country. Race and Benton had followed without hesitation. Race estimated that they had gone about half the distance to where the van was believed to be when the explosion occurred.

Benton pulled up close along side and yelled over to Race, "We've got company!"

Race shot a look behind him just as four more snowmobiles joined their procession. One look identified them. "Military!" he yelled back. "Bennett's people." Benton just nodded, concentrating once again on the task of not hitting anything at their rapid pace. Ahead of them, Race saw that the trees were beginning to thin. Suddenly, Jonny and Hadji broke into the open. Gunning the engines they accelerated hard up the slight incline. Race watched in horror as both young men topped the rise at high speed and went airborne. They hung there for a fraction of a second, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, and then dropped abruptly from view. By the time it fully registered to Race and Benton, both men had reached the edge and shot into open air as well. As they cleared the edge, the valley opened out below them, and both saw that rather than being forested, open ground fell away down toward the river. In the distance, the fire from the burning van could be clearly seen. As the snowmobile hit the ground again, Race could hear the startled cries of the government men behind them as they topped the rise and struggled to stay upright on their machines. With a slightly apologetic thought for the men behind him, Race accelerated once again, following Jonny and Hadji down toward the flames below. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
The resounding explosion sent shattered pieces flying in all directions. Jessie and Kefira lay flat on their stomachs in the snow, shielding their heads and waiting for the falling debris to abate. Finally, Jessie raised her head slowly and looked around. After a moment she breathed a deep sigh of relief and said, "Yee ha . . ." 

Kefira propped herself up on her elbows and stared at Jessie. "I can tell," she commented, "that life with Hadji and his American family is not going to be dull. Do you always have your vehicles wired so you can cause them to explode?"

"Only the ones that have Dr. Quest's prototypes in them. There's some stuff he simply won't let anyone else have. The van is . . . was . . . one of those vehicles. All of us are under very specific orders to destroy them rather than allowing them to be taken by an enemy."

"What did it have in it that is so sensitive?"

Jessie rose carefully to her knees and peered up toward the top of the berm of snow. "I'd rather not talk about it here, but once we get back home, I think you've earned the right to see it for yourself."

The two young women carefully climbed the piled snow and stared back at the burning wreckage. "I will hold you to that." After a moment, she added, "Do you think we eliminated the people that were hunting us?"

"I don't know. Look, you stay here and keep an eye out. I'm going to try going back. If nothing else, we need to see if we can help the guys in the car that were tailing us."

"I do not believe we should split up," Kefira objected. "There is at least some safety in numbers."

Jessie shook her head. "No. I know we got at least some of them . . . there was no way they could have gotten far enough away to clear the van . . . but we don't know if we got everyone. I need you here to cover my back if I get up there and find them waiting for me." Reluctantly, Kefira agreed. Their entire conversation had been carried out in hushed whispers. Now, Jessie fell silent and with a quick squeeze to Kefira's arm, she squirmed to the top of the snow bank and slid back down into the road. Moving slowly, in a semi-crouch, she moved back toward the van. She was about 30 feet away when she found the first man. He lay face down in the middle of the road and when she checked there was no sign of a pulse. She moved on silently. She stopped just outside of the circle of light formed by the still-burning vehicle. From that distance she could see two more men and she didn't need to go any closer to tell that they, too, were dead. She backed up slowly and then turned to climb the snow bank again, intending to go around the van to the other side. She was about halfway up with a voice behind her snarled,

"Hold it right there, sister." Jessie froze, spread-eagled on the snow, not even breathing. "Back down on the ground . . . nice and slow. That's good. Now turn around and face me!" Jessie did as she was told. She couldn't make out a great deal . . . the light was too poor and he was dressed mostly in white, causing him to fade into the background of snow. But she could tell he was tall and rangy, and when he moved, it appeared to be with some difficulty. The man raised his voice and yelled, "Commander, I got one of them!"

Jessie watched silently as a shape rose from the far side of the van to stand on the top of the snow berm above the flaming wreckage. In the fitful light cast by the flames, she could see that he was small . . . maybe five-three . . . with a full head of dark hair and the broad shoulders and narrow hips of a gymnast. With graceful ease, he walked along the crest until he cleared the wreckage and then jumped down to land lightly on the road surface. The fact that he didn't even appear to slip on the slick surface told Jessie just how dangerous this man was likely to be. When he spoke, his voice was light and cold.

"That rolling lump of flesh and metal had better be worth all of this." He moved forward until he stood next to his cohort and surveyed her from head to foot. "You cost me four men . . . good men . . . and I don't take that lightly. What's your name?" Jessie said nothing, simply staring back at him unflinchingly. With lightning quickness, the man lashed out and slapped her across the face. In the same tone, he repeated, "You _will_ answer me. What is your name?"

Jessie raised her head, giving it a quick flick that tossed her hair back out of her face. "Monica Lewinski," she replied without inflection.

He struck her again. "What is your name?"

"Martha Stewart."

Again. "What is your name?"

"Sarah Michelle Gellar." This time, she felt her lip split when his fist struck her, and when he asked the question again, she heard anger and knew he was losing patience.

"WHAT IS YOUR _**NAME!?**_"

She raised her head and wiped her mouth with the back of one wrist. It came away bloody. She gave him a cold smile and opened her mouth to reply, but before she could utter a word, a voice from behind them said flatly, "Princess Amidala." At the same time, the man with the gun screamed and fell to the ground as a long dark object struck him solidly in the ribs. The smaller man lunged for Jessie almost immediately, but she was already moving, having had a split second's warning of Kefira's attack. The man struck the wall of snow face first, and before he could recover, Kefira had grabbed her pistol and snapped off a shot in his direction. It struck high and to his right. As he turned, intending to renew his assault on the two women, he saw two things that immediately changed his mind. The first was Jessie, bringing a second gun to bear on him in a way that told him she would not hesitate to use it. The second was the sight of a small army of snowmobiles that appeared suddenly over the crest of the hill and roared down toward them at top speed. With a snarl, the man made a tremendous leap and hauled himself up to the top of the wall of snow. Both women saw him pull a gun and they leaped in opposite directions, searching frantically for cover. A single, sharp shot reverberated through the night air and then he was gone.

For a long moment, both women lay motionless in the snow, not quite sure it was really over. Slowly, Jessie raised her head and called, "Kefira?"

"I am here," came the immediate reply. "Are you hurt?"

"No, nothing worth mentioning. You?"

"I am fine, as well."

Slowly, Jessie stood and wiped her mouth again. After a minute, she commented, "Looks like the cavalry is on its way." She moved a bit further away from the burning wreckage and sat down hard on the road, well out of range of any residual flicker of light. Until help was on the scene, she had no intention of making herself any more of a target than she already had been tonight. Kefira came and sat down beside her. They were both silent for long moment and then Jessie sighed, "Well, my dad should be well and truly pissed over this . . . " She fingered her split lip and bruised cheek gently and winced, " . . . not to mention Jonny."

"You could have told him your name," Kefira said, sounding very tired.

"Yeah, but that would have been wrong. Refusing to answer him bought us time. And that was time we needed, both for you to get set so that you could bail me out," Jessie heard Kefira chuckle, "and for the rest of the family to arrive. Tell me something, though . . ."

"What?"

"Why didn't you just shoot them?"

Kefira was very quiet for a long time. Finally, she said, "I was coming up from behind them, and . . . I-I could not just shoot them . . . in the back . . . with no warning . . . "

Jessie reached out and hugged her. "It's okay. What we did worked and that's what counts."

"Perhaps, but I do not believe that Jonny or Race will be happy with the tactic."

It was Jessie's turn to laugh. "No, probably not. Do me a favor, would ya? Let's not be real quick to tell them how I got the split lip. They sort of have this thing about people hitting me. I'll just kind of imply it happened during the attack on the van and see if I can't keep them from asking too many questions. It will be easier than trying to deal with either one of them going off the deep end."

"Very well," Kefira replied neutrally.

The first of the snowmobiles skidded to a stop near the wreckage and both women could hear Jonny and Hadji calling their names frantically. Jessie sighed, "Well, we probably ought to go let them know we survived. There's just one other thing . . . "

Jessie could see Kefira turn in the darkness to look at her. "Yes?"

Reaching out, Jessie clasped the other girl's arm in a tight grip and said, "Welcome to the family, Kefira. I'll take you at my back anytime!"

Kefira laughed and replied, "And I will take you, as well. We make a good team."

The two rose stiffly. "Darned good thing, too, when you consider our future mates." Then Jessie raised her voice and called out to the growing number of people near the wreckage. "Over here . . ." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Quest Compound**

Jessie relaxed back into Jonny's arms with a contented sigh and rested her head against his shoulder. His arms tightened around her protectively as he shifted slightly in the big reading chair in the family room, getting more comfortable. Hadji and Kefira were nearby on the sofa, while Race spoke to someone in low tones on the phone. Jessie knew that Dr. Quest, her mother, and the Lieutenant that had shown up at the wreckage were somewhere in the back of the house with Dr. Mason, caring for the two soldiers who had been tailing them earlier that evening. Jessie didn't think they were too badly hurt, but she would feel better once she knew for sure. 

She looked back at Hadji and Kefira. Her voice was filled with laughter as she murmured softly to Jonny, "What happened to our dignified, reserved sultan?"

Jonny looked over at Hadji and Kefira and grinned. Hadji's reserved manner was definitely gone. He sat sideways on the large sofa, with his back wedged into the corner where the high back wrapped around to join the arm and his legs were propped up on the seat cushions. Stretched out beside him was Kefira. She was nestled snuggly against his side, tucked neatly between his body and the back of the sofa, and their legs were entwined in a complex tangle. Her head lay on his chest and he had his arms wrapped tightly around her. Occasionally, he would lower his head and whisper something to her. She would reply in the same soft tone, which would generally cause him to tighten his arms and nuzzle her head.

"I think he disappeared about the time the van blew up," he replied softly.

Jessie raised her head and looked up at him. "She really is something special, Jonny. You should have seen her when we were attacked. She was just awesome . . . cool and calm and not the least bit rattled. And she's just crazy about Hadji."

"You should have seen the look on his face when IRIS told us the van was under attack. I've never seen him ride a snowmobile like that. I could hardly keep up with him." As they watched, Hadji reached down and tilted Kefira's head back so she had to look up at him. He said something to her again and they both saw her smile . . .

"I was truly afraid," Hadji said softly.

Kefira smiled up at him. "Afraid of what?"

"That I would never see you again."

"I am not that easy to get rid of. Just ask my father."

"They could have killed you."

She considered that briefly and then said, "Perhaps. But neither Jessie nor I were going to make that easy for them." She reached up and laid a gentle hand on the side of his face. "I am not going disappear from your life, Hadji. Not if you do not wish me to." She contemplated him for a long moment. "I have never known a place like this before . . . or anyone like you. You accept me for who I am and encourage me to do what I feel is right. Everyone does. I am not expected to fit into a mold or to be something that I am not. I feel as though I truly _belong_ here with you. I-I do not think I will ever want to leave . . ."

Hadji wasn't consciously aware of considering the action, but one minute he was looking down at her and the next instant, his lips had fastened on hers and the two of them were locked into a kiss that obliterated awareness of anything else around them. There was no hesitation in his action . . . no questioning whether it was what she wanted. It was as though he knew her mind just as surely as she knew his. Her arms curled around his neck, tightening to draw him even closer as she pressed herself against him willingly. He shifted, taking her in a firmer hold and ran a hand down her back as his lips parted and the kiss deepened abruptly.

"Yeow!" Jonny exclaimed softly. "Go, Hadji!" Jessie giggled and cuddled in even more closely against him. She nuzzled his neck gently and then winced at the pain the action caused. Jonny felt her flinch and leaned back to look down at her in concern. "You need to get Dr. Mason to look at that. How did that happen, anyway?"

"Oh, it's not a biggie. Some ice will take most of the swelling out," she replied evasively. Her father, who had finished on the phone and now moved over to join them, saved her from having to come up with a more specific answer.

"Now those two have gotten started," Race commented in a resigned tone of voice, watching Hadji and Kefira. "Poor Benton . . . awash in a sea of hormones."

"Maybe it will be enough to finally make him sit up and take notice of Dr. Mason," Jonny said.

Race eyed him in surprise. "You've noticed that, huh?"

"I could hardly miss it! Sometimes, my father can be so dense," Jonny said in disgust. "I've thought more than once that someone should go up to him, smack him upside the head, and say, 'Hey, look around you. You're missing a really great thing here!' They would be so good together."

"Don't push it, Jonny," Race warned. "You know that your father has trouble with this sort of thing. Let him move at his own pace."

Jonny sighed and watched as Benton, Barbara, Estella and the Lieutenant appeared in the study doorway. "Yeah, I know," he replied in a low voice. "I won't say anything. I just wish he could find a way to be really happy again."

From the doorway, Barbara called out, "Jessie, you're next."

"It's nothing, Dr. Mason. Really. I'm okay." But Jonny sat up, dislodging her arms from around him and Race reached down and hauled her up out of the chair.

"Go!" her father commanded sharply.

With a martyred sigh, she crossed to join the older woman, who gestured toward the dining room table. "We'll go in here," she said. "I think the light will be better." She gestured at Jonny, waving him back into his chair imperatively. "I think we can manage just fine. You relax and I'll have her back to you in no time." They watched as he reluctantly sank back into the chair. The look Jessie shot Barbara was grateful.

"Thanks."

Barbara turned up the intensity of the light over the table and sat her down directly under it. Tilting her head up and back, she eyed the bruised side of her face and her split lip critically. "Not a problem. For some reason, I rather anticipated that you would avoid telling him, or your father for that matter, that someone has been deliberately beating on you again."

Jessie's eyes widened fractionally, and she sputtered, "What . . . how did you . . ." then she caught herself and changed it to, "What do you mean?"

Barbara smiled at her in amusement as she took a swab and soaked it in disinfectant. "This may hurt, so grit your teeth," she replied and began cleaning her lip. "Child, I have been a doctor for a long time, and I learned very early how to recognize the signs of battering. Someone did this to you deliberately and you're trying very hard to avoid letting the men in your life know about it."

Jessie sighed. "You know, I love my dad and Jonny and Dr. Quest a whole lot, but they really aren't very good at letting me deal with my own problems sometimes. They get this whole macho thing going and don't know when to quit . . . particularly when it comes to someone hitting me."

"Can you really blame them?"

"No, I understand why they're that way, it's just that they have to learn to get on with things. I welcome help when I need it, but I'd rather cope with things myself if I can. It's like the guy tonight . . . Kefira and I dealt with it just fine. But if Dad or Jonny had been there . . ."

"What happened to him?"

"Kefira and I drove him off."

"But not before he got his hands on you."

"Well, no . . ."

Barbara just shook her head. "I swear. This family. You guys could keep me employed for life!"

"You could just _become_ one of us," Jessie said, without thinking. Then her eyes widened and she said, "Oops! I didn't mean . . ."

Something flickered briefly in Barbara Mason's eyes, and then it was gone, covered up by her smile. "Benton and I are just friends, Jessie."

"Is that all you want?" she asked curiously, wondering if the older woman would answer her.

"What we have is comfortable and we're happy with it," Barbara replied evasively.

"That's a little bit like saying that bread and water will keep you alive so you don't need anything else. It may be sufficient, but it's not very satisfying."

Barbara smiled again, and said, "Ice . . . for the swelling. There's not a whole lot more we can do for it. I can leave you some painkillers if you want them. That will be seriously sore in the morning."

Jessie shook her head. "No, it's not that bad. I'll live." As Jessie rose from her chair, Barbara nodded and began putting things back into her medical bag. Suddenly, Jessie laid her hand on the other woman's arm and said urgently, "He needs you, Dr. Mason, just like my dad needed my mom. Don't give up on him. Please."

"Go on, Jessie," Barbara said quietly. "They're waiting for you." After a minute, Jessie turned and walked back into the other room, leaving Barbara to finish picking up.

". . . air evac them out of Rockport tomorrow morning," her father was saying to the Lieutenant as Jessie walked back in the door. "Dr. Mason feels that at least for tonight, they would be better if they weren't moved again."

"They are going to be okay, aren't they?" Jessie asked anxiously. "If it hadn't been for those two guys, I don't think we would have made it."

"Yes," Kefira agreed from her position on the sofa. "They gave us the time to get out of the van and away before any of the men could reach it."

"They will be fine, Jessie," Barbara reassured her, pulling on her coat as she entered the family room. "They both took bullets, but none of them were life-threatening once we got the bleeding stopped. I just don't believe they need to be moved again tonight. Let them rest now and they should be ready to move in the morning." Turning to Benton, she said, "If you need me, you know how to get hold of me."

"You're welcome to spend the night, Barbara. We've got plenty of space. This is the second time in three days we've had to ask you to come out here at a late hour. The least we can do is offer you the chance to stop and catch your breath for a while."

She smiled at him and shook her head, all the time avoiding looking at Jessie. "Thank you, but I think it would be best if I went on home." She glanced at the Lieutenant, who was also donning his coat, and asked Benton," Why don't you let me show the Lieutenant out as I go? It will save you a trip out to the gate."

They all saw Benton hesitate and finally he said, "You've had three late nights in a row, it's cold, and the roads may be questionable. If you won't stay, I really think it would be better if one of us saw to it you got home safely."

Before Barbara could object, the Lieutenant said quietly, "I'll get one of my men to see her home, Dr. Quest."

Barbara finally glanced over at Jessie, who grinned at her with an 'I told you so' look. With a half smile, Barbara thanked the Lieutenant and Race followed them into the entryway to show them out.

"IRIS will monitor your trip to the front gate," Race told her. "You'll need to identify yourself when you get there so she can confirm your voice pattern, but once that's done the gate will open." Race looked over at the government man. "Your people need to be well back from it or it won't open. Also, under no circumstances do you leave her car while you're still on the Compound grounds. She's authorized to be here unaccompanied by a member of the family. You're not. Being out of her proximity will trigger the Compound defenses. Is that clear?" The man nodded.

"We'll be fine, Race," Barbara reassured him. "And I'll see you tomorrow morning. I'm planning to come back out to check on those two as well as oversee their transfer to Camden airfield for transport out to a medical facility. If you run into any trouble at all tonight, just give me a call."

"You really should just stay," Race replied, but Barbara shook her head. Finally, admitting defeat, Race nodded, opened the door, and watched as they got into her car and started up the drive for the main gate.

Race closed the door and turned back toward the family room. He stopped in the doorway, surveying the room. Jessie had returned to her former position in the big chair with Jonny. Hadji and Kefira were still nested together on the sofa like a pair of Siamese twins, although their earlier amorous tendencies seemed to be under control now. Benton and Estella stood by the fireplace, talking in low tones.

Alright," Race said briskly into the silence, "now I want someone to tell me just what the hell went on tonight." He turned to Jessie and frowned at her. "What were you doing out in the middle of nowhere, Jessica?"

Jessie proceeded to explain about the overturned truck, their choices of routes home, and their decision to try the country road in the hope of shortening the trip.

"I never saw any sign of another vehicle following us," Jessie told her father. "I mean, we spotted the government guys right off, but I would have sworn there was no one else around."

"There was that other car back on Mechanic Street," Kefira said thoughtfully.

Jessie looked at her in surprise. "What other car?"

Kefira shook her head and told them what she saw. "I did not think anything else about it, because it disappeared almost right away."

"I didn't see it at all," Jessie said.

"Why didn't you call us when you found out the road was blocked?" Jonny demanded. "We would have come and gotten you."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door. Everyone exchanged alarmed glances, wondering how anyone could have gotten through the defenses and to the front door. Both Jessie and Kefira jumped up, pulling the pistols they still carried and began moving toward the entryway. Race waved them to a stop at the family room door, and said, "IRIS, identify the unknown individual at the front door of the main residence."

"DR. BARBARA MASON HAS RETURNED BRINGING ADMIRAL CHARLES BENNETT WITH HER."

"What is he doing here?" Benton demanded of no one in particular.

"HE ADVISED DR. MASON THAT HE HAD INFORMATION THAT IT WAS VITAL DR. QUEST RECEIVED IMMEDIATELY. HE WAS MOST INSISTANT ABOUT THE URGENCY. DR. MASON AGREED TO ESCORT HIM BACK HERE," IRIS replied.

"Is he armed?" Race asked quietly.

"NO." The sharp knock came again.

"Let him in, Race," Benton said. His voice was even, but he didn't sound happy.

Race moved to the front door with Jessie and Kefira not far behind. He reached out and opened the door, stepping back as he did so. Bennett strode in determinedly, only to stop short just over the threshold as he found himself face to face with two guns that were leveled directly at his head. The matching pair of green and brown eyes that stared at him over the barrels of the weapons did not look friendly.

"You have developed a disturbing habit of turning up in my home immediately after one or more members of my family have been attacked, Admiral," Benton said coldly from behind the two women. "One could begin to wonder why that is." Bennett noticed that Jonny and Hadji were once again flanking their father, although neither appeared to be armed.

Bennett felt Race step up behind him so that he was totally surrounded. Then Race said quietly, "Barbara, would you be good enough to step inside so we can close the door. Long range sniper shots from outside the perimeter fence are extremely unlikely, but there's no point in taking any chances." Barbara stepped inside and Benton watched as she closed the door and leaned against it silently.

"Now, Admiral, would you care to explain what you're doing here?" Benton asked coldly. "I thought I made it clear that you were not welcome in this house without an express invitation."

But Bennett wasn't paying attention to Benton Quest. Rather, he was staring at Jessie Bannon. "How did that happen?" he asked sharply, gesturing at Jessie's injuries.

"As I said, members of my family were attacked again tonight. This time it was targeted against Jessie and Kefira."

"They tried to kill you?" Bennett asked the two of them directly.

The two women exchanged a swift look, and it was Kefira who answered slowly, "No . . . no, I do not believe that was their intent."

_"What?"_ Race exploded, while both Jonny and Hadji began demanding to know what happened.

_**"QUIET!!"**_ Benton said loudly. "It's time we know exactly what went on tonight. Jessie . . . Kefira . . . put the guns away. Admiral, in the family room. Barbara, I'm sorry, but I really don't think . . ."

"Yes, I know," she interrupted, "you think it's not a good idea that I leave here tonight. Benton I _have_ to go. It's almost eleven and I have to be up by 4:30 because I'm scheduled to do surgery tomorrow morning at 7:00 in Augusta. I can't put it off. I'm already exhausted and if I don't get some rest, I'm going to be putting my patient at serious risk." She could see Benton's concern for her personal welfare warring against his understanding of her professional obligations. _Poor Jessie,_ she thought. _No wonder tries to keep things from them._ "I will be fine!"

"Alright, but only if you will allow the Lieutenant to have a couple of men see you safely home."

She nodded wearily. "Fair enough. Goodnight, everyone. I'll see you tomorrow morning around 10:30."

As the door closed, Benton turned to Race and said, "Call the Lieutenant and warn him she's coming. Have him get two men to escort her home and ask him to station them outside her house. Just make sure they know she's not to be aware of them. If someone is watching this place, they will have seen that she has the freedom to move around as she sees fit. And they'll have no way of knowing she can't get in as easily as she can leave. I don't want her turning into a target, as well." Race nodded sharply and moved quickly into the family room and picked up the phone. "Admiral," Benton said, gesturing for Bennett to precede him.

When all were seated and Race had finished on the phone, Benton turned to the two women and said, "Alright, let's have it."

For the benefit of Admiral Bennett, they started again, explaining how they found themselves blocked from getting home, how they weighed the options and chose to try the country road, and how they were unexpectedly attacked.

"Initially, I really thought their intent was to kill us," Jessie said. "They hit the front window and fractured it, and at one point, they put a whole barrage into the van. It's why we decided to get away from the van."

"It was not until we had gotten clear and they reached the van that I began to wonder," Kefira added. "They believed we were still in the vehicle. If they had intended to kill us, all they would have needed to do was discharge their weapons into it. But they did not do that. They tried to make us come out . . . threatened to break in if we did not do as they said."

"And later," Jessie added absently, "when the guy asked me for my name . . . it was as though he didn't even know who he had."

"'Asked for your name???'" Jonny exclaimed. "You _talked_ to one of them??"

"Well . . . yeah. Two of them, actually," Jessie said a bit lamely. The string of profanity she privately directed at herself would have turned the air blue.

"And what did they ask?" Race questioned ominously.

"I told you," Jessie said. "He asked me what my name was. It was really strange because . . ."

"How many _times_ did he ask you that question?" Race said tightly, overriding her attempts to move the conversation on to other topics. Jessie watched as her father seemed to see her bruised face for the first time and give serious consideration to the injury.

"I don't know . . . a couple, maybe. Look, Dad, the important thing is that he didn't . . ."

Race rose and came to stand in front of his daughter. "How . . . many . . . times . . . did . . . he . . . ask . . . you . . . that . . . question?" Race gritted.

"Four, okay?" Jessie said, finally losing her temper. She shot to her feet and glared at him. "He asked me four times. And I stalled . . . gave him flip answers. So he hit me. Is that what you want to hear? He took his hand and he slapped me in the face. And the last time, he started to lose his temper and he backhanded me with his fist and busted my lip. Is that what you want to know? Do you feel better now?" She stopped, face-to-face with her father, breathing hard. Her face was flushed and her fury, clear. "I _**let**_ him hit me and I played for time. Are you going to stand here and tell me you've never done that?"

The silence following that question was pregnant. Bennett looked from father to daughter and came to the conclusion that it was probably just as dangerous to have Jessica Bannon for an enemy, as it was her father. He glanced over at Jonny Quest to see how the young man was taking all of this. For once, Jonny seemed to see the merits of keeping his mouth shut.

"Answer me!" Jessie demanded furiously. "Haven't you done exactly the same thing?" 

"That is not the point. No one hits my . . ." Race started to say, but he was cut off mid-sentence.

"Yes, he has," Estella Velasquez-Bannon answered calmly, surprising everyone with her intervention. "In fact, he has allowed himself to be beaten to the point of broken bones and total unconsciousness in an effort to stall for time." Race turned an angry glare on his wife. "Don't give me that look," she commanded quietly. "It's true and you know it. You're acting like an idiot. She handled the situation and came out of it alive . . . exactly the way you taught her . . . so sit down and listen to what she has to say. You're belittling what she accomplished."

Race glared from one to the other for a moment longer, then turned, stalked back to his chair and sat down. Stiffly, he said, "You were trying to make a point?"

Jessie inhaled deeply several times, getting a rein on her temper, before saying, "The point I was trying to make was that he was searching for someone. My identity was important . . . my _specific_ identity . . . not just the fact that I came from here. If that's all he needed to know, the license plates on the van told him that. But there were two of us, and he didn't know which one of us he needed. I think he had a name and he needed to know if the one of us he caught was the one he was sent to get. And I also don't think he would have left the other one alive, once he found the person he was looking for."

The silence that followed that pronouncement was very deep. Finally, Hadji swallowed hard and asked, "Why do you believe that, Jessie? Would it not have made more sense to just take the one of you he wanted, and leave, rather than wasting time searching for the other?"

"Yes, it would," Kefira agreed. "But he did not want witnesses. He killed his own man, rather than leave him behind to answer questions. That man . . . he was the sort that did not willingly leave loose ends."

"You should have called us!" Jonny said again, obviously upset by the thought of Jessie and Kefira's attacker. "We would have come and gotten you. It was crazy for you to take off into the country like that!"

Jessie turned on him, the smoldering embers of her anger at her father rekindling quickly. "Well, I would have, Quest, if _you_ had remembered to put the phone back into the van after you had it out the other day. We didn't have a way to call."

"But I did . . . " he began to protest, but she overrode him.

"Furthermore, what would we have done with the van? We couldn't have left _that_ vehicle sitting on the streets in Camden all night . . . not with QUEST 2 license plates on it. Leaving it parked unattended in town would have been an open invitation to search it. And you _**know**_ what they would have found."

"What was in that vehicle that was so important that it had to be destroyed?" Kefira asked. "You said that you did not wish to talk about it outside of the Compound, but . . . "

Everyone was silent and, as one, they turned to look at Admiral Bennett. Finally, Benton sighed and said, "It contained a mobile access unit to QuestWorld."

Kefira looked from one to the other. "What is QuestWorld?"

"A fully immersive virtual reality system."

Bennett sat forward abruptly with a gasp. "An operational one?"

Benton nodded. "Yes. Operational and much more sophisticated than anything Payson had even come close to."

"And this was in the van that blew up???"

"No," Hadji replied. "The system is based here. It is an integral part of IRIS. The van simply contained the equipment and software programs to be able to access the system from outlying sites."

"The glowing headsets I saw . . ." Bennett said hoarsely.

" . . . are the visual access units." Benton replied. The scientist gazed grimly at the military man sitting across from him. "I'm telling you this, Admiral, because you need to be aware of just exactly what the stakes are in this little game we've become involved in. But I want you to understand something. Very few people know about this system and it is going to remain that way. I'm not going to make it public and I am certainly _**not**_ going to turn it over to the government." He gazed at the man for a moment and then continued softly. "You are a man of integrity. From the first days after my wife died, to the time when you put yourself and your career on the line to shield Race from the company when he decided to leave I-1, I've believed that. It's the only reason you were ever allowed to get anywhere near us. And you've kept more secrets about this family than most men know in a lifetime. Well, now you know another one, Admiral. And your silence about it is both vital and expected."

Slowly, Bennett nodded. "No one will know about this from me."

"When we were first attacked, I thought maybe we could hold out there, so I wedged the van into the snow as tightly as I could under the circumstances," Jessie said, taking up her narrative again. "I knew that you guys would be on the way . . . it was just a matter of time. But when I realized that we weren't going to be able to stay with the van, I knew that we couldn't risk having those guys find that equipment. So I activated the self-destruct, and we split. We got as far as we could before our assailants got past the government guys and reached the van. Then I detonated it."

"And the men that attacked you?" Estella asked her daughter.

Jessie sighed regretfully. "Three of them died outright in the blast. Another one was hurt and died of a gunshot later, and the last one got away. That guy . . . the leader . . . he was seriously ticked that we had taken out his men. He told me point blank that he wasn't happy about that." She frowned suddenly. "In fact, he made a point of it . . . he said that he hoped 'that rolling lump of flesh and metal' was worth it."

"Surd," Benton said wearily.

"It _can't_ be Surd," Jessie insisted. 

"That's why I'm here," Bennett replied grimly. He turned to Race and said, "You told Leeds yesterday that Jessie knew what happened to Surd . . . actually caused it. Is that true?" 

It was Jessie who replied. Nodding, she said, "I put him out of commission . . . permanently."

Bennett looked at the young woman, chilled by the tone in her voice. "What did you do?"

Jessie Bannon stood alone in the middle of the room, as though isolated from the rest of them. She lifted her head and stared Bennett straight in the eyes. "Surd's biggest grudge, and his greatest fear, was being forever locked into that wheelchair . . . immobile and defenseless. Jonny, Hadji and I made a serious mistake several years ago. You remember when you came to my father after they found Surd's nerve gas in Chicago?" Bennett nodded silently. "When Dad and Dr. Quest became trapped in that containment dome, we began searching for Surd." An ironic smile flickered briefly. "You may be a man of integrity, Admiral, but I knew, even then, that we couldn't always trust the things you said. You said Surd was dead . . . we set out to see if that was really true. It wasn't. We were the ones who broke him out of Belle Isle Asylum. And we made a deal with him. He would give us the codes that would free our fathers and disarm the nerve gas, and in return, we'd give him access to a scaled down version of QuestWorld . . . a way for him to be able to move freely again." Jessie sighed deeply. "In retrospect, it was a bad deal. We didn't realize how brilliant he was or how knowledgeable he would become. He's caused unbelievable mayhem since he discovered and began to use the system." 

"You mean, he actually stole it?" Bennett asked, horrified.

Jessie shook her head. "No. He was never able to do that. The only one capable of downloading program files is Dr. Quest, so he could never actually steal the programs. I'm not even sure he fully understands QuestWorld's design or how it works. But he was regularly able to find back doors into the system and he was really good at developing applications to run in the QuestWorld environment. He would write programs or implant viruses in it designed to attack one or all of us, and he used it for his own warped research. He even learned how to modify some of the code to make the system lethal . . . die in QuestWorld and you'd die in real life. It was a constant fight to keep him out and to undo the changes he made." Jessie sighed again, looking indescribably tired, and pressed a hand against her bruised face as though it hurt. Jonny immediately rose and went to put an arm around her. It was he that continued the narrative.

"We were 16 when Surd took his final shot. He implanted a brainwashing virus in QuestWorld . . . one that attacked Jessie . . . and he made her try to blow up Race. The attack didn't succeed, but it ended up blowing a hole in one wall of the house. And when that failed, she took the Quest Stream and tried to run him down . . . ran it straight through the house and off the high cliff out near the lighthouse." He hugged her and laid his face against the top of her head for a minute. "Damned near got herself killed," he added, sounding angry.

Sitting in this house, listening to the things this family had been through, it suddenly occurred to Bennett that there was a very good reason that Benton Quest's kids seemed so much older than their years. They had seen more death and destruction in their first 18 years of life than most people saw in their entire lifetime. _These are truly remarkable people,_ he mused to himself.

"When we reached the precipice, she was hanging by one hand from the cliff face, almost unconscious," Benton added grimly. "Race barely got to her in time. We got her back inside, but by the time we did, she had become totally comatose. I had IRIS run a brain scan and found that there was a second personality being forcibly overlaid on her own, and the struggle between the two personalities was killing her. We traced the source back into QuestWorld. And that meant Surd." Benton leaned back wearily in his chair. "Hadji and Race stayed outside QuestWorld to monitor and to try and trace Surd, while Jonny and I went in after her." Benton shuddered. "_That_ was not a pleasant experience."

"He had me locked into my own dreams and aspirations in QuestWorld." Jessie said, taking up the narrative again. "He deluded me into believing that everything that I ever dreamed I wanted or could do was happening. He knew that if he kept me that way long enough, my own personality would degrade sufficiently that I wouldn't be able to survive the exit from QuestWorld. While I was locked away from reality, he attacked the others, Jonny and Dr. Quest with their own deepest fears in QuestWorld, and Dad and Hadji physically with an assault team in the lab. It was that attack that finally caused Dr. Quest and Dad to upgrade the security here to what you see now. It was Jonny who finally reached me . . . made me see what was happening and freed me enough to fight back." "So what did you do to Surd?" Bennett asked.

"I used his deepest fears against him in the same way he did against Jonny and Dr. Quest. I separated his mind from his simulated persona and locked it away in QuestWorld. I made his mind as immobile in QuestWorld as his body is in real life. And it's still locked away in there, unable to make any kind of connection with reality."

"Good Lord," Bennett breathed.

"The QuestWorld that Dr. Quest developed would never have been able to do such a thing," Jessie said coldly. "But the QuestWorld that exists today because of Jeremiah Surd's tampering is capable of it, and I find it appropriate that Surd ends his days in a prison of his own making."

"But you didn't come here for a history lesson, Admiral," Benton said. "You told Barbara you had something important that I needed to know. What is it?"

"I found out late this afternoon that Julia and Lorenzo Canova have escaped from jail."

"When?" Race asked.

"Sometime during the early morning hours on Saturday. The two of them were in separate facilities, practically on opposite sides of the country, and they both ended up breaking out at almost exactly the same time."

"Was the nerve gas used again?" Race asked.

Bennett shook his head. "No, but then neither of those facilities were as highly fortified as Brattleford was. They had outside help, that's for certain, but it wasn't a wholesale slaughter."

Jessie freed herself from Jonny's grasp and began to pace nervously, thinking out loud as she did so. "So, okay. Julia is out and she knows what happened to Surd. And someone helped her escape . . . probably the same people that freed Surd. She wants to release him, but doesn't have the equipment or access any longer. So she sends someone to try to capture me. But he doesn't even know what I look like. That just doesn't make sense."

"It does if it was another last minute operation," Jonny said softly. He was once again seated in his chair, and everyone turned to look at him in surprise. "Let's think about this for a minute," he continued. "We know that there's a weapon out there that someone wants to finish."

"Baxter," Bennett said firmly.

Jonny frowned, that elusive memory nudging at him again. "Okay, the mystery man named Baxter. We also know that someone has freed Surd, probably with the hope that he can complete the weapon's development. But they didn't know his mental state. When they found that out, they wanted to know what was wrong with him, so they got Julia."

"But why not just go after Dr. Quest in the first place?" Bennett demanded. "Why try Surd at all? Anyone who knows this field well enough to know the reputations of these two men, knows that Dr. Quest is the researcher . . . the one who is capable of resolving something like this."

"Because they also know that he would not create or participate in the development of weapons," Hadji said with conviction.

"That, and the fact that Dr. Quest is so hard to get to," Jessie added. She gestured at the people in the room. "We make it extremely difficult for any enemy to get near him." She cocked an eyebrow at Bennett and gave him a half-grin. "A fact you should be fairly well familiar with by this time, Admiral." Having finally worked off her remaining anger, she now settled on the arm of Jonny's chair. "But you know, that implies that there's someone in the middle of this . . . someone we've never seen . . . that knows the field really, really well."

"Well, Elias International is a huge corporation," Benton commented. "I did some research on them when Baxter's name first came up and the man has a huge workforce. It wouldn't surprise me to find that he had someone extremely knowledgeable in the field on his payroll somewhere."

Jessie opened her mouth to make a comment, but stopped, looking concerned. "Hey, Kefira, is something wrong?" The Indian girl was still sitting on the couch, but she was staring blindly at the floor. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and she seemed totally unaware of her surroundings. Hadji turned to her and laid a hand on her arm. "Kefira?" The girl raised her head to stare at Jessie.

"What did the mobile equipment for QuestWorld look like?" she asked slowly.

"There would have been a laptop computer and a couple of headsets," Jessie replied. "The headsets had one earpiece and an anchor band that goes across the top of the head, and there's a microphone attached. Those were black. The laptop would have been beige. There also would have been a couple of beige cables that plugged into the amplification/ communication console in the van."

Kefira's eyes were huge as she stared back at the other girl. "Jessie, there was nothing like that anywhere in the van."

Jessie turned rigid on the arm of the chair. "There had to be," she insisted. "It was there when we were loading the food this afternoon. I saw it."

"There was nothing like that in there tonight. I would have found it when I was searching for the phone. There was no electronic equipment of any kind in the van."

"Wait a minute," Jonny said sharply. "What do you mean, the phone wasn't in the van? It _was_ in the van. I put it there right before you left this afternoon!"

"It wasn't there at 7:30 this evening when we went looking for it," Jessie whispered, turning pale.

"Neither was the QuestWorld equipment," Kefira insisted.

Bennett looked from one person to another with a sinking feeling. He didn't even need to ask . . . their expressions said it all. Things had definitely taken a turn for the worse. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Unspecified Location  
Portsmouth, Maine**

It was nearing midnight when the brown-haired man arrived at the nondescript office building overlooking the Piscataqua River just north of Portsmouth. The streets were silent and dark and the building appeared unoccupied as he approached the front door. However, as he reached out for the handle, the door swung open and the man stepped inside the building. The only light was provided by the dimly glowing exit sign above the front door and a distant light from a corridor on the far side of the open lobby area. The two men moved toward that light without a word and before long they entered what appeared to be the office of some middle management paper pusher. The man who had opened the door settled down at the desk and picked up a sheath of papers, as though preparing to pick up where he left of on some task. He glanced up at the man who stood by the desk, waiting. Then he waved at the blank wall behind and to his right irritably. 

"Don't stand over me. I'm busy. Go over there and wait. They'll let you in when they're ready for you." The brown-haired man turned toward the wall without a word, but stopped again when the other one said, "Oh, and Cahill, you better be prepared. He already knows you don't have the girl with you and he's not in a great mood." The man named Cahill just shrugged, shifting a leather carry-all from one hand to the other. Before he could reply, a section of the wall shifted and slid back revealing a staircase that led downward. Without a word, he turned and began descending to the hidden operations center below.

After a lengthy descent, he reached the bottom of the staircase and a room opened out in front of him. It was perfectly square and about six feet by six feet. There was a door with no handles opposite the staircase. Cahill walked up and stood in front of the door, waiting patiently. He knew that he had been watched, inspected, scanned, and a host of other things ever since he climbed out of the cab a block away from this building. At any time during the journey to reach this place, he could have been killed with little or no effort whatsoever. But this was the final barrier. Once through this door, he would be in the heart of Baxter's east coast operations center. Finally, with a soft sigh of air, the door opened and he walked through into bustling activity. The room before him was huge and yet seemed cramped at the same time. It was filled with workstations, computers, wall-mounted monitors, and a host of other equipment. Large numbers of people worked quietly at desks or moved briskly to and fro, doing a complicated dance in an effort to avoid corridor gridlock. Cahill paused, waiting for someone to acknowledge his presence and point him in the right direction.

"Over here," a familiar voice called to him sharply. Turning, he spotted a man that he suspected was Edgerton. Cahill turned and moved to join the other man and together they moved out of the main room and down a long hallway toward a half-open door. When they reached it, Edgerton stepped back and waved him ahead politely.

"After you," he said with a slight smile. Cahill shrugged nonchalantly and entered without hesitation. He knew there was a chance he might not come out alive . . . Baxter had a reputation for dealing with failure in a very harsh manner. But to refuse to come would have been a certain death sentence. And at least he didn't come empty-handed.

"Well, where is she?" Baxter demanded fiercely, stepping into his path the instant he walked through the door.

"In Maine," Cahill answered calmly. "Back inside the Quest Compound, I assume."

"YOU LET HER GET AWAY???"

Baxter paced like a caged animal while Cahill watched. The force of Baxter's fury was incredible and everyone in the room gave him plenty of space. After a long moment, he replied, "Yes, she got away . . . as did her companion. I'm sorry about that. But you said I was going after a teenaged girl and her companion. You didn't tell me that the two of them would be versed in the use of weapons and would be going armed, nor did you mention that they would have access to high explosives. They caught us unaware. We were able to get rid of the government men easily enough, but . . ." He spread his hands and shrugged.

"High explosives?" Julia said, sitting forward abruptly. "What blew up?"

Cahill set the carry-all down on the table. "The vehicle they were driving. They rigged it to blow and then abandoned it. The explosion took out three of my men and injured a fourth. The government people took out the remaining man. I was the only one that got out."

"What about the injured man?" Edgerton asked, suddenly alarmed.

Cahill looked up at him. "You made it clear when you hired me that there was to be no trail left behind that could lead here. The man was too badly injured to travel and the opposition was closing in rapidly. I had no choice . . . I killed him."

That seemed to mollify Baxter somewhat, however he was still not happy. "That puts us right back where we started," he snarled.

"No, not entirely," Cahill replied, reaching into the carry-all.

"What do you mean?"

"We managed to get inside the van and search it without being spotted before the targets left to go home. I think we managed to get what the Bannon girl blew up the van to try to protect." Cahill pulled out a beige laptop and two slightly peculiar-looking headsets. He also produced a cellular phone. He laid all four items on the table in front of him. Before anyone else could move, Julia snatched up one of the headsets and turned it over and over in her hands, staring at it. Then she pulled the laptop across the table, flipped it open and powered it up. After working at it for a few moments, she began to smile in satisfaction.

"What have we got?" Edgerton asked her.

"The answer to almost all of our problems," she purred, continuing to work at the computer in front of her. Edgerton came over and perched on the table next to her, peering down to see what she was working at. Baxter and the others came around behind the two to join them. As they all watched, the screen went blank briefly and then a stylized Quest logo appeared. It was followed almost immediately by a popup box that stated, "Input access authorization codes."

"But we don't have the access codes," Edgerton said with disgust. "It's probably going to take us forever to break the encryption."

Julia shook her head. "You won't break it, I can promise you. If there's anything Quest is good at, it's protecting this sort of stuff. He has a foolproof system. The only way to get into this is to have an in to start with."

"Then what good does it do us?" he demanded irritably.

"Nathaniel, my love," she said, running a soft hand down his leg, "we already have the 'in'."

"What is that?" Baxter demanded.

"The answers to your prayers," Julia replied, turning back to him. She nodded at the computer. "That is the gateway to Benton Quest's virtual reality system. You wanted answers to fix your weapon? I can give you something infinitely better . . . a system so powerful that it makes that weapon look like a child's toy. All we need to do is get into it and free Jeremiah. He understands it and is capable of using it to it's fullest. Anything you want, he can give you."

"So how do we get in?" Baxter asked. "You say we can't break the encryption, and Quest certainly isn't going to let us into the system . . ."

"Ah, but you see, he doesn't have to, because his kids already have. They let Jeremiah in several years ago, and once inside, he imbedded a subroutine in the programming that would provide him with a doorway. All we need to do is activate it."

"And how do we do that?" Edgerton asked.

Julia turned and smiled at him in a way that caused his blood pressure to rise sharply. "Didn't you say that you have someone close to the Quests that might come in handy?"

Edgerton nodded. "The Hamilton girl."

"I'll give you an access string. Type it into any computer in the Quest Compound and the latent program will recognize it and activate. Then all we need to do is come back here, enter Jeremiah's code into that screen, and we're in."

Baxter turned and looked at Cahill. "You. Back to Maine . . . now. Find Francesca Hamilton and pass on this message . . . "


	12. Chapter 11 Sunday, December 26

**Chapter 11**

  


Sunday, December 26

  


Conners' Residence  
Rockport, Maine

Moonlight shown through the windows of the two-story frame house, tracing a path of silvery light across the floor to the end of the bed. Silence filled the structure as the entire family slept soundly. But some indistinguishable sound had caused Francesca Hamilton to wake abruptly. She lay there, unmoving, searching for whatever it was that had brought her up out of the depths of sleep. Nothing. But still she didn't move. If there was anything that her father had taught her, it was to trust her instincts. And those instincts were telling her that something was not right. She lay for a long time, breathing deeply and evenly in feigned sleep, as she waited. Then it came again . . . just the faintest sense of movement in the shadows. She wasn't alone! She tensed, preparing to fling herself out of her bed, but the instant before she was ready to move, the intruder struck. Catching her in a strong grip, her unknown assailant pinned her to the bed and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her silent. She fought like a wildcat, but to no avail. The man, while not large, was strong and agile. She was helpless from the start. As he held her in a punishing grip, he leaned down and pressed his face against hers. She could feel his breath, warm on her cheek.

"I have a message for you." The words were almost indistinguishable . . . just the barest breath of sound, and Francesca knew in that instant that this was the contact she had been waiting for. "One a.m. tonight," the voice whispered, " . . . the watchtower on the top of Mount Battie . . . he'll be waiting."

She shifted her head, indicating she understood. Then she nudged at the hand covering her mouth. Slowly, the grip eased and she shook free of it. She lay in a pool of moonlight, her captor little more than a dark shadow leaning over her. In the silvery light, her eyes glittered.

"You tell him . . . I'll be there," she hissed. "But you tell him something else, too. You tell him that, whatever it is he wants, there will be a price and he had better be prepared to pay it."

The man's laughter was little more than a soft burst of air in her ear. "Gutsy."

"My father," she said in a cold whispered hiss. "He frees my father and gets him back to the States, or he'll get no help from me. You pass that on . . . and tell him that if he's prepared to deal, I'll see him tonight."

"I'll pass it on," the whisperer replied. "And if you're still alive by midnight you can expect to see him there." And then the man was gone. Francesca lay there, her heart beating wildly, listening for his passage. But she never heard another sound. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Rockport City Street**

The sharp sound of pans banging together caused Francesca to freeze about midway down the staircase. She tilted her head to one side and listened carefully for a long minute, before finishing her descent to the first floor. She moved swiftly and silently, crossing to the big coat closet near the front door. Tugging her down parka on over her black and violet ski suit, she snatched up gloves and hat and then slipped quickly out the front door. There was no evidence of the onset of dawn at 5:15 a.m. and her outfit allowed her to be swallowed up quickly in the early morning darkness. She walked briskly up the street, heading for the corner where she was to meet Bobby Evans. As she did so, she considered her late night visitor. 

It certainly had taken Baxter long enough to decide to contact her! She was not a patient person by nature, although her father had spent years trying to teach her to cultivate it. She was beginning to get seriously fidgety and was very glad that things appeared to be starting to move at last. Francesca thought about Leeds and smiled. She would meet Baxter tonight and find out what the man wanted this time. She had already decided that she would use Leeds and Baxter to eliminate all of her problems at once. With a little bit of careful manipulation, she should be able to get Baxter to spring her father. It was a demand that Baxter would anticipate and understand. But she didn't dare say anything to him about Bannon. There was too much of a chance that he might blame her for the Cairo fiasco. That she couldn't risk. But Leeds solved that problem! She could use Leeds' fixation with eliminating Baxter to get the government man to get rid of Jessie Bannon. Then it was a simple matter to betray Leeds to Baxter. Once Baxter knew about the government man, Leeds would be as good as dead, and Francesca's apparent loyalty to Baxter would gain her a valuable ally. And that would take care of the last of the loose ends. All she had to do was ensure that Leeds got rid of Bannon _before_ she told Baxter about him. Once that was done, Francesca and her father could disappear without a trace and the entire business would be finished. She felt a passing flash of regret about Jonny Quest. She really was going to miss him. She wished she could figure out a way to get rid of the goody-goody side to his personality. She remembered the night in Cairo and shuddered slightly in the cold morning air. Jonny had a dark streak in him . . . one she hadn't realized existed until it was almost too late. If that could be permanently forced to the surface, he really could be hers. She sighed as a favorite daydream suggested itself to her again . . . she and Jonny, traveling all over the world with her father, pulling jobs and then vacationing in all sorts of exotic spots. With an angry shake of her head, she dispelled that thought. _Don't be an idiot,_ she snarled at herself. _That's worse than a daydream! It's idiocy that could get you caught again. You've been to jail once, you don't want to do it again!_

Ahead of her, a car turned the corner and pulled up to the curb. In the light from the street lamp, she recognized Bobby and Matt's Honda. Francesca put a smile on her face and quickened her pace as the driver's door opened and Bobby stepped out of the car.

"Francesca?" he called, uncertainly.

She went directly to him, completing the last twenty feet at a half-run. She threw herself against him and pressed her body to his tightly, tucking her head down and laying it on his chest. "Oh, Bobby!"

Putting his arms around her tightly, he hugged her to him and said in concern, "Francesca, what's wrong?"

She clung to him for a moment longer before raising her head and giving him a tremulous smile. "Nothing . . . now. I-I just missed you, that's all. I thought yesterday was never going to end!"

His face cleared and he gave her a besotted smile. "I know," he whispered. "I missed you so much." Then he kissed her. Francesca returned the kiss for a long moment before shuddering slightly. Bobby immediately picked up on it and raised his head. "What's wrong?" 

She laughed lightly. "I'm just cold, that's all. It's still early and it's so dark . . . "

"Of course you are!" he replied, chagrined. "Come on, get in the car. The heater should be warmed up now." He opened the door and helped her into her seat before going back around to the driver's side and getting in himself. "So where to?"

"When do you have to be back?" Francesca asked innocently. 

Bobby's expression immediately darkened and he turned to put the car in gear. "Whenever I feel like it," he replied shortly.

Francesca frowned and laid a soft hand on top of his. "You're angry. What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"It's nothing."

"No, something has upset you. Tell me." She paused for a moment, looking at him. "Your dad?"

"I really thought that getting out this early, I'd be able to avoid him this morning."

"But he caught you going out," she filled in for him when he stopped.

"Yeah. And we got into this big fight. And, of course, brother Matt had to try to step into the middle of it and play peacemaker, which only made it worse . . ."

Francesca made a tiny sound and bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall forward to screen her face. A small, ugly smile played across her lips before she could school her face into an expression of pain. When he brushed her hair back and tilted her face up to look at her, there were tears on her cheek. "I-I'm sorry, Bobby. T-t-this is all m-my fault . . ."

"It is **not!**" he denied sharply. "You can't be blamed because my father is being an idiot!"

Francesca could see him hesitating, as though trying to decide what to do. Well, she was not going to spend another day sitting around the house going out of her skull! Reviewing her options quickly, she decided that playing the martyr was the only way to go. Reaching for the door handle, she said, "I'm so sorry, Bobby. I can't let this go on. I-I can walk back home from here. You'd better go before your Dad gets any more angry." She opened the door and turned to get out. When he didn't immediately move to stop her, she added, "I'll see you when school starts again."

"What? School starts? Wait! Francesca . . ."

She paused, turning to look back at him. "It think it would probably be better if we don't see each other any more. Then your dad won't have anything to get angry at you about. Goodbye, Bobby."

He grabbed at her frantically. "No! Francesca, I don't want you to go. I . . . " He stopped, as though weighing the options, and then made a swift decision. "My father can go stuff it. This is my life . . . my choice . . . and if he doesn't like it, that's tough. Nothing is more important to me than you are."

She looked back at him with huge, soulful eyes. "Bobby, I . . ."

He cupped her cheek in one hand and said, "I . . . I think I love you, Francesca. Please . . . you can't leave me."

"But your father . . ."

"I don't care about my father! You and me, that's all that matters." He leaned over and kissed her again. "Close the door," he whispered against her slightly parted lips. She closed the car door and then slid her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with abandon. The whole time she was smiling smugly to herself. Yes, he was so easy . . .

After a long while, Bobby straightened and turned back to the car again. "So what shall we do until the Snow Bowl opens?"

Francesca hesitated. "Actually, I thought maybe we could try going somewhere new. We've spent so much time at the Snowbowl, I thought it might be fun to try a different set of slopes. I'd love to go to Sugarloaf, but it's too far away. I thought maybe we could try New Hermon Ski Area or maybe Mt. Jefferson. They're up around Bangor. That's wouldn't be too far, would it?"

He seemed to think about it for a minute and then looked at her and smiled recklessly. "Hey, we've got all day. If you want to go to Sugarloaf, then that's where we'll go."

Francesca was momentarily disconcerted. "But . . . but Bobby . . . that's all the way up near the Canadian border!"

"So?" he asked her with a grin. "You got someplace better to be?"

After a moment, she grinned back at him. "No, not anytime soon . . ."

"Then, let's get started!" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Main House  
Quest Compound**

"No, Mother, I will _**NOT**_ come to Bangalore. I have told you before . . . I am needed here right now and I will not leave." Hadji fought valiantly to keep his temper. "Yes, I understand that there are issues with the two neighboring provinces. I am very well aware of their concerns. In fact, I talked with the Sultan of one of them just this morning. He assured me that he is more than open to negotiation on the points in question." He paused listening to a spate of dialog from the other end of the connection. His back was to the doorway, so he did not see Kefira stop to watch him in concern. "Mother, this type of negotiation is precisely why I _have_ an Advisory Council. They are perfectly capable of taking care of the matter. I have already faxed my directives on the matter to Arun Birla. I have no doubt that he can settle the issue most satisfactorily in my absence." He stopped again and the frown on his face warned Kefira that he was rapidly reaching the end of his patience. She was proven right in the next instant, when he snapped sharply, _**"NO!!!**_ How many more times must I say it? _You_ have told me often enough that it is inappropriate for me to be a part of early negotiations of this kind. You have said that if I involve myself too early, it takes away my advantage in the final stages. Well, Mother, I am taking your advice and letting someone else deal with it. I do not wish to hear any thing further about it." He stopped, breathing deeply, and Kefira could tell he was trying desperately to reign in his frayed temper. After a moment, he said, "No, I will not go over anything else right now. I have other matters to attend to. I must go. Mother . . . Mother, listen to . . . Mother, I have to . . . _**MOTHER!!!**_" With a heartfelt Hindi curse, he slammed down the receiver and ordered, "IRIS, put call screening in place. If my mother attempts to call back, do _**not**_ put the call through." 

"ACKNOWLEDGED. DO YOU WISH A MESSAGE TO BE TAKEN OR IS SHE TO BE DIRECTED TO CALL BACK?"

"I do not care," he snarled. "You can hang up on her if you wish. Just as long as _**I**_ do not have to talk with her!"

Kefira crossed to him swiftly. Catching him by the arm, she guided him to the nearby seating area as she said, "IRIS, apologize to the Lady Neela if she calls and advise her that Hadji is unavailable. Offer to take a message and then allow her to decide if she will leave one or call back."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. DO YOU WISH TO BE NOTIFIED WHEN SHE ATTEMPTS TO CALL?"

**"NO!"** Hadji replied sharply.

Kefira pressed Hadji down onto a large ottoman and, stepping around behind him, she began to massage his shoulders gently. She said nothing, allowing the feel of her hands and the quiet in the house to calm him. She knelt and slowly worked her way down his back, kneading determinedly at knotted muscles, and feeling the tension slowly start to drain away.

"I should not allow myself to lose my temper in that way," he finally said in a dispirited tone of voice.

"Yes," she agreed quietly. "But sometimes it is easier to know you should not do it than to prevent it from happening."

"I used to be able to control my temper. When I became upset I could meditate and the anger would just fade away."

"Why do you not go and do that now?" she suggested, rising and moving to stand in front of him. She reached out and started on his neck again, using her thumbs to work at tense jaw muscles, and then rubbing his temples, forehead and closed eyes gently. She worked her fingers into his hair, pulling it free from the ponytail to hang loose across his shoulders, and massaged his scalp before returning to his shoulders, upper chest and arms. The tendency of his body to sway under her hands told her that her efforts were having the desired effect. "Things are quiet and you have the time. I would see that you are not disturbed."

Hadji sighed. "I have been unable to meditate for some months now. I seem to have lost the ability to find the inner quiet and relaxation necessary to reach the first level trance." He was silent for a minute and then said, "This is very nice. Where did you learn this skill?"

Kefira laughed softly. "From my mother. She required that all of her daughters learn the art of massage. She feels it to be of benefit in soothing the soul."

"I believe I would have to agree with her."

"You should at least try to meditate. You seem relaxed enough at the moment. Perhaps this time you would find the inner peace to reach the trance state."

"Please do not stop," he protested, as she released his arm and straightened.

She smiled and replied, "I will continue if you will try to meditate. I believe that the rest and quiet would do you good." She moved around behind him again and began rubbing his back gently. The tension had fully dissipated now and he really didn't need the deep relaxation techniques she had been using earlier, so instead she simply used her whole hand in a flat, circular motion across the muscles of his back.

He shifted slightly, settling into his favorite position and began breathing in a deep even rhythm. It was as though old habits returned to him almost immediately and she could feel his withdrawal as he dropped easily into a trance. After a few moments more, she stopped and stepped back from him softly. He didn't move. The peace that seemed to surround him was almost tangible. She moved silently across the family room and into the entryway, meeting Benton and Race just coming up the hall. She made a shushing motion with her hand and moved to close off the room. The two men caught a quick glimpse of Hadji, perched on the ottoman, right before she closed the door.

"IRIS," she said softly, "be certain Hadji is left undisturbed. No phones and no interruptions."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

Race looked at her in surprise. "Problem?"

She shook her head, drawing the two men with her toward the kitchen. She allowed the door to close behind then before she replied. "I do not believe it is anything serious. He has just been very stressed recently and he is finding it difficult to relax. He had just reached the state where he could meditate and I wanted to give him the chance to do that."

"I know things have been tense around here recently," Benton began in concern, "but . . ."

Kefira shook her head again, cutting him off. "No, Dr. Quest, it has nothing to do with life here. I believe the stress is coming from Bangalore." She shook her head at Race as he reached for the coffee pot on the counter. "Estella is right, you are going to overdose on caffeine one of these days." Race just grinned.

"Do you know what the problem is?" Benton persisted.

"Not for certain," she replied, "but I have an idea." She went to the refrigerator and got a bottle of juice before returning to the breakfast bar and climbing onto one of the high stools. "I have not had the chance to really sit down and talk with him since I arrived. I am hoping to do that this afternoon. I believe that if I have the chance to talk with him alone, he will tell me what is going on at home that is disturbing him." She gave Benton an apologetic look. "He tends to be more willing to talk with me about issues involving Bangalore because I will eventually be his wife and we will deal with them together."

Benton sighed. "I know. Don't mind me, Kefira. I'm just having a mid-life crisis at the moment. I'll get over it."

"I understand," Kefira said with a smile. "My father is going through much the same thing. It is hard for him, too, and he still has young children at home." She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, looking suddenly concerned. "I hope you do not feel that I am trying to take him away in some fashion . . . "

Benton looked startled. "Of course not! I am absolutely delighted. You are a wonderful young woman and I can tell that he is extremely happy when he is around you."

Kefira contemplated the man across from her for a moment and then said, "I told Hadji this last night, but I want to say it to you as well, Dr. Quest. I cannot begin to tell you how wonderful it has been being here with you. I-I have never really fit in at home . . . I am a bit too . . . " She stopped, unable to find the right word.

"Progressive," Race supplied without hesitation.

"Progressive," she said, as though sampling the word. "Yes, I believe that is a good way to describe it. I am too progressive in my thinking for my country. I want things that are not deemed appropriate. And because of that, I have always felt out of place. I do not feel that way here. I have not from the first instant I set foot inside this house. I wanted to thank you for that. It is a truly wonderful gift."

Benton squeezed her hand gently and smiled. "No thanks are necessary, Kefira. The expression on my son's face when he looks at you is all the thanks I need." Then he looked at her questioningly again. "You have no idea what's bothering him? Because I know something is. I've seen the signs. And it's worrying me, because the things I'm seeing strike me as significant."

Race moved from the counter to the bar and sat down. "I haven't noticed anything. What have you seen?"

Benton shrugged. "It's little things, but he's changing habits that have been in place all of his life." He looked at Race. "When was the last time you saw him dressed in Indian attire?"

Race thought about it for a minute and then began to frown. "You know, I'm not sure, but it's been a while. You're right. That's not like him."

"He's stopped wearing a turban almost entirely, and Jonny mentioned not too long ago that he's even talking about cutting his hair."

"Oh, I hope he does not do that!" Kefira exclaimed, sitting up sharply. "I think his hair is sex . . ." She stopped abruptly, clamping both hands over her mouth and blushing furiously. Race started to laugh and Benton grinned.

"Just tell Jessie," Race advised her. "She'll tell Jonny, and Jonny's sure to tell Hadji, and then he'll _never_ touch it." Kefira just buried her face in her hands.

Benton sobered. "So, do you have _any_ idea what the problem is, Kefira?"

"I believe it is simply a case of the old being in conflict with the new," she replied thoughtfully. "His advisory council is largely composed of older men that date from the time of his father's reign, and they do not take to change well. And in many aspects, the Lady Neela tends to be very conservative, as well. She is also strongly influenced by Arun Birla, the head of the Advisory Council, who is extremely conservative. In fact, Mr. Birla actually worked directly with Hadji's cousin Vikram for much of his reign. My father says that Mr. Birla is very good at politics and tends to get the things he wants. Hadji is trying very hard to bring Bangalore forward into modern times and I believe he is finding the conservativeness of the older members of his government taxing. He has to fight for everything he wants, and often times he must resort to 'playing Sultan', a role he does not relish. I do not think that Hadji enjoys wielding the kind of power he has now."

"No, he doesn't," Benton agreed.

Kefira sighed. "He was arguing with his mother again this morning. This happens frequently and it is very frustrating to him. They try to bend him to their will and he will not give in if it goes against what he believes is right." She shook her head. "From what I have been told, the fight in the Council chambers the day after the marriage candidate reception was extremely heated."

"Marriage candidate reception?" Race said, gagging on his coffee.

Kefira nodded. "His mother decided that it was necessary that Hadji be married and produce an heir. She intended that the marriage would occur this spring with the hope that there would be a child by the end of the year. So she called together all the eligible girls in the province and they had this large reception so his Advisory Council could inspect all of the potential candidates and select a wife for him. That was the reason I was at the palace. My family had come for the reception."

Benton stared at her in horror. "You were selected to marry him by his Advisory Council???"

Kefira laughed ruefully. "Oh, no. I was not even a candidate. I was there with the rest of my family in support of my elder sister. I never would have been considered. I don't fit the qualifications of a good Sultan's wife."

"So what _are_ the necessary qualifications to be a good Sultan's wife?" Race asked curiously.

"Subservience, obedience, and the ability to be manipulated," she replied without hesitation. "At least according to Lady Neela and the Council. Hadji disagreed with their search criteria."

"Yes, I suspect he would," Benton agreed dryly. "So how did they receive his announcement about you?"

"Well, technically, there is no betrothal. Custom states that once the betrothal has been announced, I am not allowed to leave my father's house until we are married. And I certainly never would have been allowed to leave the country. So Hadji refused to make it official. Therefore, the Council has not been forced to take a formal position."

"But Bennett knew about it!" Benton objected. "And he was told by the Indian ambassador himself."

Kefira smiled bitterly. "Yes, I know. The story was leaked from the palace within a week after Hadji left the country. Oh, not the name of the girl he is to be married to, but the fact that he is to be married. I do not know if Hadji has confronted Lady Neela with this or not, but I would not want to be in the middle when that discussion occurs!" She sighed and shook her head. "It is all a power struggle . . . political maneuvering . . . and I believe this is what has him upset. But as I say, I have been unable to find the time to talk with him alone to find out for certain. There has simply been too much going on."

"So how can we help?" Race asked, leaning comfortably against the bar.

Kefira looked from one to the other and then said, "What I need to do is get him alone for a period of time. That will give me a chance to get him to open up and talk with me." She smiled, looking slightly embarrassed. "He may be willing to discuss these things with me, but it takes me a little time to get him started. We have not been together long enough for him to turn to me readily, and I must often coax things out of him."

"Good enough," Benton said decisively. "And I know just the way to give you that time. Today, after lunch, I will ask him to go to the lab and begin running a full set of diagnostics on QuestWorld. That has to be done anyway to ensure the integrity of the system now that we suspect our enemies have the equipment and software to access it, so he won't question why I am asking. I'll find something else that will require my attention so I won't be able to help. Can you get yourself invited along?"

Kefira smiled. "He would take me anywhere I told him I wished to go. If I offer to accompany him as his assistant, he will not hesitate."

"And I can see that Jessie and Jonny are occupied elsewhere, as well," Race added. "That should buy you all afternoon if you need that long."

"Will that be enough time?" Benton asked her.

She grinned at the two older men in amusement. "Yes, I believe that will be more than adequate."

"You know," Race commented with a grin, "I bet that if Hadji's Advisory Council could be a fly on the wall right about now, they would be downright scared!" 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Sugarloaf USA Ski Area**

Francesca rocketed over the last of the bumps, going smoothly airborne and landing cleanly about 30 feet downslope. She allowed the friction of the snow on her skis and the lessening of the slope to slow her slightly before cutting sharply and sluicing to a stop the near the base of the run. She laughed in exhilaration as she shoved her goggles back on her head. The adrenaline still flooded her system and she was seriously pumped up. This was _much_ better than the skiing in Camden. For someone who had regularly skied the high alpine fields in Switzerland and the French Pyrenees, the gentle slopes of Camden Snow Bowl held no thrills. But this was fun. She knew that much of this mountain was used as a training site for the U.S. Olympic Ski Team and it showed. The runs were much more challenging and almost every type of skiing was available. It was almost noon and they had been here for about two hours. In that time, she had done two of the slalom runs and tried one of the short jumps. She would love to go again, but she could feel the low level tremor in her legs that warned her it was time to rest for a while. 

She turned and looked back up the way she had come. The day was beautiful . . . cold, clear, and sunny, and she could see all the way back up to the large, sweeping S-curve that marked the entry into the final sharp downhill run. It wasn't an easy finish. It was steep and rather rough with a fairly good glaze of ice in several spots, which caused the skier to pick up speed rapidly. And it was that speed that made the final few hundred feet the most challenging of the run, because that section suddenly turned washboardy. To navigate it safely required the skier to use the knees and leg muscles to absorb a lot of the bumps before reaching the last one, which was too large to dampen. That one you gathered yourself for and allowed your momentum to launch you into the air. It was a thrill when done correctly and could mean a seriously painful fall if you missed it. A suddenly flash of bright blue warned her that she was about to find out which way Bobby Evans would come down.

She watched with clinical detachment as he came out of the bottom leg of the S and the ground fell away beneath him. Twice he almost went down, but managed to regain his balance at the last minute. He hit the washboard section going at a frightening pace and she watched him fight desperately to maintain his balance over the center of the skis. Bobby was seriously off balance as he shot into the air and she knew that he was never going to land upright. His skis crossed and he rotated, coming down hard on his back and then sliding a good distance before coming to a stop about 20 feet away. With a private smirk, she put a concerned look on her face and skied over to where he lay on the ground.

"Bobby? Bobby, are you okay?" Dropping her poles, she knelt down beside him and slid his goggles off. He opened his eyes but avoided looking at her.

"Yeah . . . yeah, I'm okay." Slowly, he sat up, wincing slightly as he did so. Francesca reached down and pulled the quick releases on his skis and shoved them out of the way. He straightened his legs carefully and she could tell that he was seriously embarrassed about the fall.

"That last bit is really nasty. I don't know how anyone makes it down the first time without falling," she said diplomatically, carefully hiding her smugness at his inability to keep up with her. She pressed herself against his back, providing a prop for him as he struggled to recover. She pulled off her gloves and reached out to stroke his hair gently. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Tired, though."

"So am I. I thought maybe we could go down and see about getting some lunch. I know I'll feel better after a hot meal and the chance to sit down in front of the fireplace for a while."

"That sounds great." he agreed wearily. He rose to his feet carefully and then bent down to gather up his skis. He gazed toward the lodge about a half mile away and then sighed softly. Dropping his skis back onto the ground, he seated his boots into the locking mechanisms and snapped them into place. "Let's do it."

She still had plenty of energy and could have made the trip back on the gentle slope very quickly, but she stayed with him, quelling her impatience at his slow pace. More than once on the trip back she caught herself thinking that Jonny wouldn't have taken that fall and could have easily kept up with her. But she let none of that show on the outside. When they finally made it back to the lodge, they checked their skis and went inside. Bobby was quiet throughout lunch, generally speaking only when spoken to. Once they had eaten, the two of them moved into the lounge area and sat down near the fire. Francesca contemplated him quietly and then asked, "Have you talked to Jonny Quest recently?"

"No. Why?" he asked. Francesca thought she heard an edge to his voice and wondered what he was thinking. She shrugged and stared deep into the fire.

"I was just wondering. I really had hoped that he'd give in and invite us to his party."

"Well, he didn't," Bobby replied flatly "And I don't know that I'd go now, even if he called and invited us." Alarm flared in Francesca. She didn't know what Baxter wanted, but it was a safe bet that it involved the Quest Compound. She'd gotten involved with Bobby Evans because she gambled that he would be her access to that facility. If she alienated them so completely that Bobby refused to associate with Jonny any more, she was in trouble. Laying a hand on his knee, she said in a soft, pleading voice,

"Oh, please, Bobby, don't be that way. The two of you have always been such good friends. I don't want to break that up. It's not Jonny's fault . . . really, it isn't."

"Why are you always defending him?" Bobby asked in sudden anger. "It's like you think he can do no wrong or something. Why is that? You still like the guy or something?"

Francesca's initial surprise at his outburst slid over into amusement when she heard the unmistakable sounds of jealousy in Bobby's tone of voice. So she'd hooked him far enough to make him jealous of Jonny!

"No, of course not. If I still liked him, I wouldn't be with you, now would I?" She took a deep breath. "Bobby, you have to understand, what my dad did while we were in Cairo . . . it was pretty bad. I-I've never told you about that stuff . . . and . . . and I'd really rather not talk about it. I hate to even think about it! Surely, you know how badly Jessie was hurt when they came back from there . . ."

"Yeah," Bobby replied reluctantly. "I saw her then. She was pretty messed up . . . "

"One of the people my dad was working with did that to her. Jonny has always blamed me for it, at least in part, and I guess that's fair. If I'd refused to do as my dad asked, that might not have happened. Jessie means a lot to Jonny and you can't fault him for being angry about it. I . . . I had just hoped that he'd give me a second chance. I just want is to be his friend. That's all . . ."

"Well, I say, screw him! If he was really our friend . . . _my_ friend . . . he'd understand and accept you because he'd know it was important to me." Bobby reached out and pulled her into his arms. "Let's just forget him, Francesca. We don't need him or his stupid party." Then he leaned down to kiss her.

Francesca thought frantically. What was she going to do? She didn't dare push him any further on this or he would become seriously suspicious. And yet, if she met Baxter and he demanded something from her that involved the Quest Compound and she couldn't deliver, she was liable to end up dead. She had to stop Bobby from getting word back to Jonny that he was totally writing off their friendship. She knew Jonny Quest well enough to suspect that if he did that, there would be no chance of reconciliation between the two of them or of her ever getting close to the Compound. Well, that left her with only one choice . . .

Breaking off the deep, lingering kiss, she smiled up at him. "Whatever you think is best, Bobby." She sat up out of his arms and said, "Come on, let's take one more run down the slopes before we take off for home! I want to do the big downhill . . . the one the Ski Team uses."

Bobby frowned immediately and replied, "I don't know, Francesca. That's a rough hill and we've both done a fair amount of hard skiing today. Maybe we should leave that one for another time . . ."

She turned a pleading look on him. "Oh, Bobby, please. We have no idea when we're going to have the chance to come back. You know how pissed your dad is going to be about this trip, and I really did want to try that one." She paused and looked at him, allowing the doubt to show in her face and voice. "Of course, if you don't feel up to it, I understand. After all, you did take that fall right before lunch . . . " She allowed the silence to linger between the two of them for a long moment before she finished, "You stay here, and I'll join you when I'm done."

Bobby sat up sharply, a frown of concern settling on his face. "You can't go alone! Particularly on that hill."

Francesca rose to her feet. "Oh, I'm sure I'll be fine. You can watch from the porch. There's a good view of the bottom of the run from there." She picked up her coat and began pulling it on. "I shouldn't be gone more than an hour. I'll take the high speed lift to the top and take the first chance at the run that I can get."

"Francesca, wait! You can't do this . . ."

She turned a guileless look on him. "But, Bobby, there is no one else . . . and I really want to make that run."

He stared at her for a long time before he commented with bitter sarcasm, "Its too bad Jonny isn't here. I'm sure he'd be up to going with you!"

"Bobby, that's not fair!" she cried, putting all the hurt into her voice she possibly could. "You know that wasn't what I meant."

"Yeah. Right," he replied. Then he rose and said, "Alright, come on. We'll both go."

"Bobby, you don't have to do this. I promise you . . . I'll be just fine."

"No, I won't let you go alone. Come on, let's get it over with so we can start for home." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Main House  
Quest Compound**

"I am sure that I can get all of the security subroutines checked this afternoon, Father. Those will be the highest priority. With access secure, we will have the time to check the rest of the system carefully." 

Benton nodded, observing his eldest son. Hadji had remained in seclusion all morning, finally joining the rest of the family for lunch. It had been a little before 7:00 a.m. when he and Race had met Kefira coming out of the family room, and by 10:00, when Hadji still hadn't reappeared, Benton had begun to worry. He finally had IRIS turn on the visual monitors in the common room and watched Hadji sitting for a long time. The young man never moved muscle. While Benton was seriously concerned, he also knew better than to interrupt when Hadji was this deeply in meditation. Benton had seen that state work wonders in his son before, and finally he decided to leave him alone to finish at his own pace. Looking at him now, he knew it was a wise choice. While hard to define, there was a definite change in the young man. He appeared rested and more relaxed than he had in some time. Kefira had been right. Hadji needed that quiet time. "I'm just sorry I can't help you with them today, but if you can get a good start, perhaps we can finish them up tomorrow."

Hadji nodded, swallowing quickly so he could reply. But before he had the opportunity, Kefira spoke up hesitantly. "I do not know how much assistance I can offer, but I would be more than happy to help."

Hadji turned to her with a smile. "I would be glad of your company, certainly, but it is not necessary. I can manage on my own."

She turned wide, pleading brown eyes on him and said in a wheedling tone, "But I would enjoy it. And you have promised to show me the lab . . . " Benton, in the process of taking a swallow of coffee, snorted at the same time and ended up inhaling some of the fluid. He choked and began coughing. Jonny leaned over and thumped him on the back soundly.

"You okay, Dad?" he asked solicitously, the laughing sparkle in his eyes telling Benton that Race had gotten to him and warned him of the plan to give Hadji and Kefira some time alone.

"Yes," he wheezed, catching his breath with difficulty. "It just went down the wrong way."

With a concerned look at his father, Hadji said agreeably, "Of course, if you would like to help you are more than welcome to join me."

"Thank you!" she said with a brilliant smile.

Benton was certain he heard Jonny comment softly, "Sucker!" and then Jessie kicked him under the table. Hadji was oblivious to it all. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Lighthouse Laboratory  
Quest Compound**

An hour later, Hadji and Kefira were settled comfortably in the contoured task chairs at the main computer console in the Quest research lab. The couple had gone directly there after finishing lunch and Hadji had spent a fair amount of time showing Kefira around. They finished up in the main computer lab on the middle level of the lighthouse. 

"And this lighthouse is still used to warn ships, as well as everything else Dr. Quest has done with it?" she asked in awe.

"Yes. Father has an agreement with the Coast Guard. He is allowed to modify the lighthouse in any way he needs to be able to use it as a laboratory, and in return, we insure that the light operates properly and we keep it maintained. It has proven to be a beneficial arrangement for both of us."

"So I see." She looked around the room. "This is QuestWorld, then?"

Hadji shook his head. "No, this is just the computer room. QuestWorld is a collection of computer programs that simulates an artificial environment. One day soon, I will take you into that environment and show it to you. But I do not believe that now is the time to do that. Father does not want any of us in QuestWorld until we are certain it is secure." Hadji sighed. "There was a time when it was not possible to be hurt in QuestWorld. But Jeremiah Surd altered the programming a number of years ago and it is capable of doing serious harm now. For this reason, Father does not allow us to go into QuestWorld without someone on the outside to monitor the activity. Since no one else is here, it is better that we leave it until later."

Kefira nodded agreeably. "So what do we need to do here?"

"We are going to run all of the security sub-routines, one at a time, to check for tampering or bugs."

"I am surprised that IRIS can not do this."

"She can," Hadji agreed, "and does so as part of the daily routine system maintenance. But Father does not want to take any chances. Dr. Surd has buried so many things into the programs that comprise the system, we simply have been unable to find them all." Hadji grimaced. "We have a habit of coming on them unexpectedly, and the encounters are generally not very pleasant. So one of the things that Father has insisted on is that we do not rely on IRIS' general maintenance. A human operator checks the security routines regularly as a failsafe."

"That makes sense. So why don't you show me how I can help and let us get started."

For well over two hours, the two of them worked steadily, checking lines of code and testing subroutines. Finally, Hadji sat back with a sigh. "That is the last of the system access routines. Everything appears to be functioning properly and I could not find anything that does not belong there."

"How many actual lines of code are there in the complete environment?" Kefira asked idly.

"Father isn't entirely sure," Hadji replied absently, "but I heard him estimate once that he thought there were probably over 5 billion by this time."

Kefira stared at him, dumbfounded. "He wrote a program with 5 billion lines of code???"

Hadji grinned at her. "Not precisely. Remember when I said that QuestWorld is an adaptive environment?" Kefira nodded mutely. "IRIS is capable of writing her own code in certain circumstances, and some of the applications and expansions that have gone into the system have been written by IRIS herself. Within certain limits, she is also capable of self-repair. This is what makes it so difficult to find the changes that Jeremiah Surd has made. IRIS has actually incorporated them so deeply and widely into the fundamental programming, that they have become integral to the entire system. To try and eliminate them would destroy IRIS and QuestWorld itself."

Kefira thought about that for at time. "But . . . " she said hesitantly, and then stopped.

"What?"

"It's just that . . . well, how long can she do that before . . . I mean, if she can write her own . . . "

"What you are trying to ask is if she is capable of developing her own intelligence," Hadji supplied quietly. "Is she the precursor to the world of the Terminator."

"Yes."

"With the limits and safeguards that Father has put on the system, I do not believe so. But it is one of the reasons why he will not consider making the system's existence known, nor will he ever sell it. To be honest, I think the day will come when he will destroy it. It is an incredible accomplishment . . . the crowning jewel of a career full of incredible accomplishments . . . but I truly believe it is the one that the world in general will never know about."

"How is it that it has never been stolen? All systems can be hacked. You said yourself that Dr. Surd has gotten in and done damage. How have you managed to prevent it being pirated?"

Hadji stretched with a sigh. "For one thing, it takes very specialized hardware to run. Our mainframe systems are extensive and well beyond state of the art. They are custom-designed by Father just for the purpose of running QuestWorld. In addition, built into the entire system at the most basic level of the code, is a virus that is designed to trigger a catastrophic cascade fault if someone manages to get through all of the security and attempts to download the operating code. The virus is pervasive, interactive, and highly sensitive, so that it is not possible to eliminate it in one small segment of code so that it can be downloaded. Eliminate even the tiniest part of it, and it activates and replicates so quickly it destabilizes the entire system and causes the rapid destruction of everything."

"But wouldn't IRIS attempt to repair it even as it is self-destructing?"

"No. The failsafe in IRIS is that once the virus begins to replicate, the first thing to be destroyed is IRIS's ability to self-repair and write routines."

"That is absolutely incredible!"

He smiled at her. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"The complement. Much of the failsafe system is of my own design. Father is a good teacher."

Kefira looked at him for a long time. Finally, she said softly, "You love it here."

The animation left his face and an expression of pain and resignation flickered briefly before he turned back to the console in front of him. "Yes."

She reached out and caught his hands, stopping him from returning to work. "Talk to me, Hadji. Tell me what is troubling you."

He shook his head without looking at her and said, "It is nothing you need concern yourself with. I am fine."

Kefira reached out and laid her hand against his cheek, forcing his head up until his eyes met hers. "Lying to me is not a good way to begin our betrothal, Hadji," she said softly. "Your cares are mine, as are your fears, your hopes, and your dreams. It is the pledge we take. Please do not shut me out."

"We are not betrothed yet, Kefira. Perhaps, in time, you will find that you do not wish to be bound to my problems. I certainly would not blame you." He sighed again and she could sense the bitterness that underlay his comments. "Perhaps we should return to what we were doing." He pulled away from her hands and turned back to his console.

She sat looking at him for a long moment, and then inclined her head regally. "As you wish, Excellency. I am yours to command." Sitting straight in her chair she turned back to her console. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head snap around to stare at her. "I believe you indicated that we were finished with system access routines, Sire. Shall I begin on the individual programs themselves, or do you have another function you wish me to perform?"

"Kefira . . . "

She heard the pain in that single word, and it took everything she had not to give way. She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes, knowing that she hurt him by doing this, but she held firm. Schooling her face into a mask of blank, helpful placidness, she looked at him and waited for instructions.

"Stop it!"

"Excellency?"

_**"DO NOT CALL ME THAT!!!"**_

Kefira looked at him quietly. The reserved, competent face he regularly showed to the world was gone. In its place was the expression of an incredibly unhappy young man who seemed to be having a very difficult time coping. Finally, she replied softly, "You have left me little choice. I will willingly stand beside you and face anything that comes our way, but to do that you must allow me to be a part of your life . . . whether it is good or bad. If you choose to try to shield me from the difficult parts, then I become little more than another subject in your realm, whose place it is to accept your commands and do your bidding. If that is what you intend . . . well . . . then you would have been better served taking my sister as your wife."

He stared at her, thoroughly shaken. To hear her address him in this way, with that tone of subservience and blind obedience, cut him to his very soul. He closed his eyes unable to look at her blank expression any longer.

"I . . . I cannot do this without you," he whispered, and, shocked, he knew it was true.

"I am not asking you to," she said, and suddenly she was _there,_ close enough he could feel the heat of her body. He opened his eyes to find her inches away. "I am asking you to let me into your life . . . to talk with me when you are troubled . . . for the two of us to hunt for solutions _together_ . . . as partners. Not alone." She smiled at him gently, her eyes bright. "We are not strong that way, my love."

She caressed the side of his face again, allowing her fingers to slide into his hair. His arms went around her, pulling her tightly to him, as she leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips parted under the pressure of his mouth as he kissed her with a deep hunger. For a long time, they continued in that way, trading kisses and gentle caresses. Finally, Hadji stopped, allowing his head to lie on her shoulder, his face buried against her neck, and he began to talk.

He told her about living on the streets of Calcutta as a young child with no memory of his past . . . of stealing food to feed himself and Pasha, and of performing as a snake charmer in the markets for whatever small change he could earn.

He told her about meeting Jonny Quest and his father, and how Benton Quest had fought government officials and petty bureaucracy to take him off the streets. He told her how, at first, he believed that Dr. Quest had done that simply to provide a companion for Jonny, and how shaken he had been when he finally understood that the man had legally adopted him and made him his son.

He told her about growing up with the Quests . . . of being treated the same as his brother, regardless of not being Benton Quest's son by birth. He told her of being given the opportunity to learn from the best teachers and to have anything that money could buy simply by asking for it.

He told her about the discovery of his true parentage, the confrontation with his cousin Vikram, and the rescue of his mother from the dungeons in the palace in Bangalore.

He told her of that day in Bangalore when he was forced to face the truth about himself and his heritage.

And finally, he told her of the realization that karmic fate had been directing his life all along, and how he believed that all he had learned while living with Benton Quest was designed to prepare him for the role he was now being asked to play.

Through it all, she stood, holding him close and listening without saying a word. When he finally finished, they were both quiet for a long time. Then, with a deep sigh, he raised his head and looked at her again.

"Do you understand now, Kefira, why it is that I refuse to allow anyone to forcibly bind you to me? This is something I _must_ do. I do not have a choice . . . it is what I was born to do, whether I like it or not. But you were not. You do not have to deal with the palace politics, or the petty infighting, or the maneuvering for power. Your life can be simple and exactly what you wish it to be."

"And you would fight tradition and political pressure and your own mother to give me what I want, and then simply walk away?" she asked him softly.

"Yes," he replied in a pained whisper. "It is important to me that you are happy."

She gazed deeply into his eyes, thinking to herself that karma was a strange thing. All of her life she had been different and she could never understand why. She remembered wanting desperately to fit in . . . to be able to accept the role expected of her by being born her father's daughter rather than his son . . . but she had never been able to do so. It made her miserably unhappy to contemplate living the kind of life that her sister, Daria, wanted so much. But now . . . finally . . . after 18 years, she understood the road that fate had decreed she walk, and she saw her destiny clearly for the first time.

"Then, beloved, you must allow me to choose what will make me happy. And that is being bound to you and sharing your joys and your pain. Our country is in turmoil right now. It is struggling to balance the old with the new and searching for a way to blend it all together. You and I . . . together, we hold the key to that. You are the future . . . bringing new ideas and fresh life into a dying land. And I am the past . . . raised to the old culture, both knowing and understanding it's traditions, and yet wanting what is new. Together we bring balance. I believe it was fate that brought us together in that palace hallway, Hadji, not random chance. We were meant to be together. I do not believe anything else can explain the almost instant rapport we shared. It is a tie I felt from the first instant I saw you, and it has only grown stronger since. So if you will allow me to choose, then let me choose to be your wife . . . to stand by your side, to share your challenges, and to help you find solutions." She smiled at him. "It is truly what I want." Then, drawing him to her again, she kissed him deeply once more.

It was a very long time before they parted again, and this time, when she looked at him, she saw acceptance and peace for the first time since she had known him. He smiled at her and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Jonny is right."

"About what?"

"He and I . . . we are both very lucky."

She smiled at him. "I am glad you think so."

"I know so," he replied. Then he sighed. "I suppose we should return to the job we were given."

"In a minute," she replied, and easing out of his grasp, she climbed back up into her chair. "There is something I need to tell you about first."

He looked at her attentively, sensing the gravity of her words. "What is it?"

"Do you remember when my father and I arrived in New York, we mentioned the visit we had from the Lady Neela?"

"Yes."

"I think it is time I told you about that visit." Briefly, she described the surprise arrival of his mother and the head of his Advisory Council, and of the subsequent conversation. By the time she finished, he was frowning in concentration.

"That was an odd encounter," he said. "What was the purpose?"

"I have thought about it a great deal since it happened," Kefira replied, "and there are several conclusions I have drawn from it."

"Tell me," he encouraged her, when she stopped.

"Well, to begin with, I believe there were two separate sets of reasons for their visit. One belonged to the Lady Neela and the other belonged to Mr. Birla, and I do not believe that the two of them necessarily were meant to work in concert." She paused, as though searching for the right words to explain her feelings. "I think that Mr. Birla's reason for being there was purely political. He had not met either me or my father before, and I think he was there to look us over."

"Assessing the opposition," Hadji said.

Kefira nodded. "Yes. Exactly." She grinned somewhat ruefully. "And I am afraid that I was relatively easy to read. I made it clear that I would not go against your will simply because you were not in the palace. I "let him push my buttons" as Jonny would say."

Hadji chuckled. "Well, I do not allow Mr. Birla to push me, either. Not any longer."

Kefira frowned. "But what disturbed me about the incident was that he was not openly confrontational. He simply sat back and watched while the Lady Neela initiated the dispute."

Hadji looked grim. "So . . . my mother actively works against my direct orders. I had hoped that this was not the case, but I was beginning to suspect it. I just do not understand what it is she hopes to gain."

Kefira shook her head slowly. "No, Hadji, I do not believe that is it."

Hadji looked at her in surprise. "I do not understand."

She was silent, staring at the floor for a long time, and Hadji waited patiently, watching her try to assemble her thoughts. Finally, she raised her eyes to his and said, "I think she is being used."

"What?"

"Your mother is very unhappy, Hadji . . . but it is more than just discontent with having to be the political head of our country. The emotion I felt the most strongly was jealousy. She resents your attachment to your adopted father and brother." She saw anger flare in his face, and she held out a placating hand. "Hear me out, my love. You must try to see it from her perspective. How old were you when Pasha stole you from the palace?"

"Four," he replied shortly.

"And Vikram told your mother you were dead. Tormented her with it, if the stories heard in the countryside are to be believed. But she did not listen. She _knew_ you were alive, and regardless of what he did, she continued to search. Finally, he locked her in the women's quarters and she was never allowed out. Why he did not kill her, I do not understand, but he did not. And then, three years after you supposedly died, rumors began to circulate that you were still alive and living in Calcutta. Hope was born again in the country. It is said that Vikram's rage was so deep that he ordered the slaughter of 100 peasants every day until you were found." She smiled at him with a flash of humor. "There is still a legend in our country that says that the day will come when you will rise from the ashes of destruction to take vengeance upon those that destroyed your family and bring freedom to the country once again."

He smiled back uncomfortably. "I am afraid I am not much of an avenging angel."

"Perhaps. Who is to say? The story isn't finished yet. When the Lady Neela heard these stories, she took heart again and one day she escaped from the palace and, after much hardship, she made her way to Calcutta and went searching for you in the streets. Did you know that the very day she sought you there was the day that you met Jonny Quest, and that Dr. Quest and Race became your defenders?"

He stared at her, stunned. "No, I did not know that. If she had found me that day . . . "

Kefira shook her head. "Fate intervened again, beloved. If she had found you, both of you would have died, because before the day ended, Vikram's men found her again and dragged her back to Bangalore. This time, Vikram took no chances. He threw her in the dungeons and left her there until you returned home nine years later. But the point of this story, Hadji, is that after all that time, and all of the hardships she endured, when you did return you were not the young man she expected. Oh, initially, I think you were. It was all so new and exciting, and you finally knew who you were and where you came from. But that did not last, did it?"

"No. I have never wanted power . . . the ability to have such wide-ranging impact on other people. It makes me extremely uncomfortable." He shook his head. "But at least at the beginning she did not push me in the way she does now."

"No, her means were more subtle then."

"I don't understand."

"She thought to marry you to Jessie Bannon at one point, did she not?"

Hadji straightened and laughed sourly. "Yes, she did make that attempt at one time. In fact, she finally became so obvious and insistent, Jessie simply stopped coming to visit me when I was in the palace."

"She thought that if you had one of the family who would live with you permanently in Bangalore, you would be content to stay. She did not plan for Jessie's independence . . . or yours, nor did she know of the emotional ties between Jonny and Jessie. It was when your family ceased to come to Bangalore that you began to drift away from her. You were content enough to be in Bangalore often when the members of your family could come with you. But when they ceased to come, you became discontent and began to stay away as well. And the more you stayed away, the more she tried to find ways to bring you back. It must have been a very bitter realization that all she worked for during those years . . . all the things she did to try and preserve the throne for you . . . were pointless endeavors. You had grown up in a much larger world and what she tried to preserve for you turned out to be something you had grown beyond."

Hadji looked momentarily stricken, but then his expression hardened again. "I understand what you are saying, but it does not excuse the things she has attempted to do since. The forced marriage was just the last in a long list . . . beginning all the way back when she tried so hard to force Jessie and I together."

Kefira sighed. "Yes, I know. And I believe she realizes now how much of a mistake that was. She does not know Dr. Quest very well, does she?"

"No," Hadji said with a shake of his head. "They have met face to face three times or so. No more than that."

"So she had no way of knowing the emotional environment you were raised in." Kefira smiled at him. "I am not even sure you realize the impact of this household, and you have grown up in it."

Hadji looked intrigued. "What kind of impact?"

"The love and sense of loyalty in this house are tangible. It is an incredibly nurturing environment. Your father loves you and your brother a great deal, and he is not afraid to openly show it. I have noticed he is more shielded in public. He is always friendly and easily approachable, but he is more reserved in his expressions. But here, he puts up no walls. He loves his sons and it is obvious. And his care and concern extend to Jessie, Race and Estella, as well. His fury over the attack on Race and Estella was truly frightening."

"Yes, and I think its strength and depth even startled Race."

Kefira cocked her head as she looked at him. "It is because they are family . . . in the truest sense of the word. It does not matter that they do not share his blood . . . they are family, all the same. And he has lost so much in the past, that what family he has now he does not take for granted. Even I feel it and I am new in this house."

"You are family," Hadji replied with a smile. "Being a scientist by training, my father doesn't wholly believe in karma, but he can recognize its influence when he sees it. But you said that you feel my mother is being used. In what way?"

"I think that Mr. Birla uses her to gauge situations. When they were at our home . . . " Kefira stopped, frowning, as she replayed that scene in her mind. Finally, she sighed and shook her head in frustration. "It is hard to say what it is about it . . . "

"Try," he urged her.

"Well . . . you must understand I was not there the entire time. My father had been arguing with them before I ever joined them, and the atmosphere was very tense when I entered. Everyone was trying very hard to be civil, but . . . " She sighed again. "The feeling I got was that the Lady Neela was agitated before she ever arrived . . . as though she had been goaded into being upset . . . so that when the confrontation occurred, she was predisposed to . . . to . . . "

"Pick a fight?" Hadji asked softly.

"Yes!" Kefira replied eagerly. "That is exactly it! And Mr. Birla . . . he sat back and simply watched as it all played out. To be honest, I had totally forgotten he was there until he stepped in and ended the dispute." She stared at Hadji. "And that is another thing. The Lady Neela was the ruling individual in that room, and yet, Mr. Birla seemed to govern the situation. Lady Neela was not disposed to let the matter drop, but when Mr. Birla told her to stop, she did. Immediately. It was extremely strange."

"You've told me about their visit and your impressions of it, but the one thing you have _not_ told me is why they were there . . . what their goal was in traveling so far. There must have been one. And whatever it was, it upset your father . . . and you . . . a great deal. So what did they ask for?"

Kefira opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking distinctly uncomfortable. She had tried to avoid telling him about their purpose, knowing it would upset him. But he looked at her sternly, and said, "You were the one who was just chiding me about keeping things to myself. I do not want you to start the same habit. What did they want?"

She sighed and replied, "They had come to take me to the palace for a "short stay" . . . of four or five months . . . so they could get to know me better."

Hadji stiffened and this time his anger was quick and bright. **"WHAT???** She knew you were coming here at my direction! How _dare_ she try something like that?!" He rose swiftly and strode across the room, reaching for a telephone mounted on the wall. "I will **NOT** stand for this . . . "

Kefira jumped up and ran after him. Taking the phone from him she hung it up and faced him. "No! You must listen to me. We must be clear-headed about this. It will not do to alienate her or Mr. Birla. We do not know what prompted her to do this thing." She frowned, gazing off into space once more. Then, suddenly, her eyes snapped back to him as if things suddenly clicked in her mind. "_That_ is what it was . . . what has been bothering me about it!"

"What?" he asked, catching her shoulders.

"That sense of being manipulated . . . of being used. Mr. Birla could have stepped in at any time, but he didn't. He sat behind us silently, just letting things happen . . . as though he was watching a play . . . _until_ I told your mother that I would solve the entire dispute by calling you. Lady Neela was extremely upset at that idea . . . as though she did not want you to know anything about the visit. And the minute my father supported that decision, Mr. Birla halted the entire thing."

"So he wanted to see how far you could be pushed," Hadji said thoughtfully.

"Yes," Kefira agreed, nodding. "But also, I think, to see just exactly how closely tied to you I was. Would I turn to you when pushed? Did I know how to reach you if I needed to? And was I still talking with you on a regular basis since you left the country? Before he left, he all but ordered my father to bring me to the palace to stay as soon as I got back in the country." Kefira shifted uncomfortably. "I got the impression that once there, it might be difficult for me to leave again, although I will admit that may be an unfair judgment." She looked at Hadji and then admitted reluctantly. "I will say this much. I am fairly certain that the intent in trying to spirit me off to the palace was to use me as bait to draw you back there."

Hadji moved back to the computer console and sat down slowly, thinking hard. When he looked at her again, his expression was grave. "I have known for some time that there are a number of very strong factions in Bangalore that are in dispute over the country's future. One group, the older, more conservative ones, want a return to a full Sultancy and the old way of life. Then, there is a radical faction that wants to disband the Sultancy immediately, and go to governance by a ruling council of some kind. Our country's militia heavily supports this group. And finally, there is the group that wants to phase in a more democratic form of government, giving the country and its people the chance to get accustomed to the idea of self-rule." Hadji sighed. "Unfortunately, there is still a large portion of our population that is underfed and poorly educated. To be fair and equitable to the people, a democratic government really needs to have a relatively educated and well-informed populace. This is something that Bangalore is lacking right now. And it is one of the major things I am working to correct. I had thought that Mr. Birla supported my goals . . . or at least supported the Sultancy enough to follow my lead as ruler of the country."

"Perhaps, Beloved, he supports the Sultancy . . . but not necessarily the current Sultan. Remember, I told you that he used to work closely with Vikram. He has had the opportunity to learn the concept of rule by force from someone who excelled at the practice."

"I think," Hadji said slowly, "that it is not a good idea for you to return to Bangalore."

Kefira looked at him for a long time before replying quietly, "I do not believe it is a good idea for either one of us to return right now."

On that disquieting thought, they both returned to the task that Benton Quest had given them for the day. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Sugarloaf USA Ski Area**

The ski lift deposited Bobby and Francesca at the top of the Central Mountain ski area. This was the launching point for a number of different trails, so there was a good crowd gathered near the drop off point for the lift. The two of them moved through the crowds to their right, making for the starting gates at the head of Narrow Gauge trail. This trail was custom designed for the Olympic Team and allowed the skier the choice of trying downhill, super G, giant slalom or regular slalom courses. In fact, the course that Bobby had taken the fall on earlier that day was a portion of the run they were making for now. It was the Olympic downhill training run they were here to try. 

The couple had been silent ever since leaving the lodge and the entire situation was beginning to unnerve Francesca. She thought about his comments at the lodge again. He had never shown any signs of jealousy before today . . . if anything, she had begun to think he simply wasn't capable of the emotion. But it was obvious now that he was. And if he really was jealous of Jonny, then it was unlikely that he would make any great effort to attend functions that put them together. But, it was more than that discovery that was bothering her. In all of her life, she had never had anyone who would follow her, no matter what . . . who would risk family, others he cared about, or even his own safety to try to ensure she was all right. Even her own father had told her often enough that he expected her to take care of herself, and if anything went wrong, she had better not expect him to come to her aid. And yet, here was Bobby, tired and hurting, and yet following her up onto a ski slope that might just be more than he could handle, simply because she wanted to go. That realization left her feeling seriously uncomfortable.

As they approached the head of the trail, they saw a man with a radio at the gates, regulating the pace of the skiers on the hill. There were a number of people there before them, so they had to wait for the opportunity to start the run. Bobby stood patiently, gazing out across the gorgeous vistas in silence. Francesca, in an effort to take her mind off of Bobby and her uneasy thoughts, watched the skiers in front of them carefully. She had learned long ago that what you knew beforehand could save you a nasty fall, and so she concentrated on those below her. She could see skiers flashing in and out of view as gaps in the trees afforded periodic glimpses of the trail further down the mountain.

It was slick . . . she saw that almost immediately. Like the slopes they had tried earlier that day, sections of the trail were icy. It was also clear that the natural terrain was uneven, and although the new snowfall during the prior week had helped even out some of it, she could see skiers dropping like stones as the ground fell away under them abruptly. Also, the snow itself appeared to be grooved by the large number of skiers who had been running the slopes. That, she knew, would make the hill even more treacherous. Francesca watched with increasing uneasiness, trying to keep a count of the number of skiers she saw start and the number she saw rocket through the finish far below. Somehow, there didn't seem to be as many down there as there were up here. 

Francesca glanced sidewise at Bobby again. He was studiously avoiding looking at her, and she had the feeling he was still angry. Hesitantly, she put a hand out and laid it on his arm. "Bobby? Bobby, I'm sorry if I've made you angry. I-I really didn't mean to . . . "

"Forget it," he replied shortly. In front of them, the starter waved to the last person in line ahead of them. The man moved forward to set himself in the starting gate.

"I mean it, Bobby," she said insistently. "You don't have to . . . "

"I said forget it!" he snapped.

Catching her lower lip in her teeth, she turned away and began watching the other skiers again. She knew this run was classed for expert skiers. It would be taxing, but she didn't doubt that she could handle it. She had done any number of equally difficult ones with no trouble. Then she glanced over at her companion again. The question was, could Bobby Evans say the same? Getting him hurt so that she could play the devoted girlfriend would go a long way in getting her sympathy votes from his friends and family, but using this hill as a method of doing it might be too much. He was watching the last skier in front of them ready himself for the start. The monitor at the gate suddenly nodded and stepped back slightly. The skier rocked back and forth a couple of times and then launched himself out onto the head of the trail. As soon as he cleared the starting area, Bobby prepared to move up to take his place. 

Francesca reached out and caught his arm. "Bobby, please . . . don't . . ."

He pulled his arm free with a quick jerk and said, "I'll see you at the bottom." He hadn't given his predecessor or any of the other skiers on the hill so much as a second look. He had no idea what he was getting into . . .

In that split second, Francesca's unease erupted into fear. This wasn't right! She'd watched Bobby ski that morning and she knew . . . he wasn't up to the demands of this run . . . particularly tired and sore from a fall. Hurting him was one thing . . . but _**this**_ . . . this could kill him!

"Bobby, wait . . ." she started to say, but at that instant, the starter waved to him, and Bobby took off. _**"NO!"**_ she screamed, but it was too late. She threw herself into the gate, ignoring the man's startled exclamation, and launched herself out onto the trail without waiting for his signal. She had no idea if there was anything she could do to stop what she was sure was coming, but she knew she had to try. She couldn't let him die . . .

He was barely into the first turn before he was in trouble. The snow was seriously icy and the surface uneven. She saw his skis skitter sideways, tossing him off balance and, for an instant, she thought he would go down right there. But somehow he saved it and managed to get set up for the next turn. She followed him as closely as she dared, cutting back and forth expertly. Her only chance was to stay close enough that if he went down, she could try to keep him out of the trees.

The first complex was a series of S curves, and after the first two turns, things got easier. They exited this and broke into the open running fairly fast but in control. But then the ground dropped away in a long, fast, straight run and they began picking up speed rapidly. Bobby hunkered down over his skis, tucking his arms and poles into his body tightly. The position helped him keep his balance, but it also reduced drag and his speed increased dramatically. She tried to scream at him . . . tried to tell him to slow down . . . but he couldn't hear her over the wind. Ahead of them, she saw the trees closing in again and the trail took a sharp right. She dropped into a crouch and made her body as streamlined as possible, willing herself to catch him. But it was no use. He had gotten too far out in front and he seemed to have no idea how to control his downhill speed. He shot into the righthander and barely managed to stay on the trail. _Please,_ she prayed, _let him stay up until we're in the clear again._ She knew that if he fell now, his momentum would slam him into one of the trees lining this section of the course and there would be no hope.

He scrambled desperately, seriously in trouble now. Making a split second decision, she hugged the left side of the trail and rather than cutting into the turn, she caught the slight uphill grade and used all the force in her legs to launch herself up and over the apex of the corner. She sailed into the air, fighting to keep herself balanced, and prepared herself for the landing. Luckily, this was a sharp right/left/right combination and her speed gave her enough momentum that she actually cleared the left hander and came down into the middle of the right hand turn that finished the series. Using all the strength she had, she cut to the right and straightened into the middle of the trail. The move had trimmed some of her forward speed, and had also put her out in front of Bobby. She threw a frantic look over her shoulder just in time to see him come out of the second right hander.

He was still on his feet . . . barely. His speed was frightening and she saw, in that single quick look that it was almost over. He'd lost one pole already, and he almost lost the other one when he frantically put a hand down in the middle of the turn to try and regain his balance. He was still up, but it was only temporary. His exhaustion and near panic were clear. There was no doubt . . . the next turn would take him down. She looked ahead again and saw the trail straighten and the trees thin. She knew where they were, now. They would clear the trees and enter into a large bald. It was open for a good half mile and, initially, the ground would level a bit. She had seen several skiers enter this area on the edge of trouble and recover. On the far side, the ground would fall away again and the trail would enter the trees for the last time. Two sets of S'es and a jump would lead into the slope that they had taken right before lunch. They could not enter the trees again. If they did, it was over. Bobby wouldn't survive this hill.

Francesca tucked herself tightly again and fought for speed. She had to gain on him. She needed time to turn and set herself. There was no choice any longer. She had to take him down. He would fall hard and, with his speed, he was going to skid a long way, but if she didn't do it now he had no chance. She shot into the open, verifying at a glance that she was right in her guess on their location, and then heeled over hard. Even with her experience, she almost lost it. Her skis stuttered wildly over the snow and her already overtaxed legs screamed in protest as she made them absorb the full force of the sudden change in direction. As she struggled to stay upright and get ready, she saw him exit the trees. He had lost the other ski pole, although he had recovered enough to be upright and appear steadier. But he was moving like a rocket, with no hope of making the remainder of the course without the ski poles. Whispering a formless prayer, she hit him.

Her shoulder caught him in the stomach and they both went down, his momentum carrying them skidding across the icy surface. She kicked frantically, deliberately catching her skis in the snow. The drag slowed them slightly before the safety catches gave and snapped them free from her boots. They careened wildly across the snow. She tried clinging to him, but some shrubs protruded from the snow in places and he hit one of these patches and was ripped from her grasp. The contact sent him tumbling, head over heels, and the brief glimpse she got of him before they were separated warned her that he was no longer conscious.

She skated across the ice on her back, gradually losing momentum. She spread her arms and legs, trying to dig her heels and fingers into the snow to slow herself even more. Seconds stretched out toward infinity and it seemed like hours before she finally skittered to a stop. She lay motionless for a long moment, not quite sure she believed it was over. She opened her eyes and gazed up at the vivid blue sky above her, feeling vaguely grateful that she was able to do even that much. Then she tipped her head and looked back the way they had come. It took her a moment to realize that what she was seeing was the starters' gate . . . upside down and a long way away, but clearly visible nonetheless. And if she could see them, then they could see her . . . and that meant that they would have help eventually. Carefully, she sat up, trying to assess the damage. She hurt all over, but no one thing stood out over any other. Taxed, but whole, she knew she had survived.

That thought caused her to stiffen and look around frantically. Where was Bobby? She could see no sigh of him. Without thinking clearly, she tried to stand up, only to have one leg break through the icy crust of the snow and sink to her upper thigh. She extracted herself cautiously and, taking greater care to distribute her weight, she rose as high as she could, searching for signs of him. It was the trail of his fall that finally led her to him. He had tumbled a good 150 feet further before finally coming to a stop in another tangle of shrubs. 

When she finally reached him, she didn't try to move him. He lay on his side, his body twisted at what seemed like an impossible angle. A quick glance told her that his right leg was definitely broken. It also looked like his left one might be, as well. His face had been lashed a couple of times by the shrubs, and he had a nasty welt across one cheek. She pulled off her gloves and felt frantically for the pulse point under his jaw. For a panicky moment, she couldn't find it. Then she felt it flutter against her fingers . . . weak, but seemingly steady.

"Bobby?" she called to him, but received no sign of a response. Moving carefully, she pulled his eyelids up and looked at his eyes. Both were dilated, one definitely more than the other. Taking great care, she grimly began examining his skull. It didn't take her long to encounter blood on the back of his head. She had no idea what he had hit, but he'd definitely smacked his head on something. With that discovery, she stopped her examination. He was hurt far worse than she could deal with, and she knew that anything she might do could easily worsen his condition.

Exhausted and in pain herself, she just sat, waiting for someone to send help. The one thought that occurred to her was that this was not the way she had planned for this day to go . . . 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Main House, Quest Compound  
Rumford Community Hospital, Rumford, Maine**

It was almost 4:00 when the Quest family gathered in the family room again. Admiral Bennett, who had spent the day at the house, was still there. The mood was light and jovial for a change, and everyone appeared to be having a good time. Hadji and Benton had reviewed the results of the system checks and Benton was satisfied that things were secure. He had also managed to catch Kefira's eye unobtrusively, and she had nodded reassuringly. He had no idea what they had talked about, but for now it was enough to know that Hadji appeared to be happier and more content. Everyone was laughing when the phone began to ring. Jessie was closest and picked it up on the second ring. 

"Hello?" Her smile rapidly disappeared as she listened. "Yes, he's here. Just one moment and I'll get him for you." She hit the hold button and looked across the room at her father. "Dad, it's Mr. Evans . . . Matt and Bobby's dad. He's asking to talk with you, and he sounds pretty upset."

Race rose and crossed the room quickly, taking the phone from his daughter. "Jim, it's Race. What's up?"

"I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this, Race, but I'm desperately in need of a favor."

"Name it."

"I need to get to Rumford as soon as I can and driving is going to take too long. I know it's a lot to ask, but is there any chance you could fly me there?" Suddenly, he stopped and Race could almost see him trying to think. "God, I don't even know if they have an airfield. I don't know what to do . . . "

"Take it easy, Jim. I can get you there, that's not a problem. What's happened?"

Jim Evans inhaled a deep, ragged breath. "I just got a call from the hospital in Rumford. Bobby's been admitted there, hurt in a skiing accident."

Race looked grim. "How bad?"

"They don't know yet . . . broken bones for sure. He'd just arrived and the doctor called immediately to tell us that he wanted us there as soon as possible. Donna's just wild."

"What the hell was he doing there?" Race gestured frantically at Jonny. Covering the mouthpiece, he demanded urgently, "Is the chopper gassed and ready to go?"

Jonny nodded economically as Jim replied, "It seems he and the Hamilton girl decided they wanted to go skiing today. The two of them got it into their heads that they were bored with Camden, so they opted to go to Sugarloaf as an alternative."

The color drained from Race's face. "Where did he fall?"

"They were on the Olympic downhill," Jim replied bitterly. "What was he thinking, Race? Bobby doesn't have that kind of skill! It was suicide to try that slope!"

"Right now, it doesn't matter," Race replied decisively. "You and Donna get out here as quickly as you can. We'll take the chopper. It's fast and I know that Rumford Community Hospital has a helipad, so we can go directly there. We should have you there within the hour."

"Race, I . . . "

"Forget it, Jim. Just get out here. We need to get you to your boy."

Race disconnected and turned to look at his family. All of the laughter was gone.

"What's happened?" Benton asked quietly.

"It's Bobby," Race replied and told them briefly what little he knew.

"I'll go warm the chopper," Jonny said shortly and stalked out. The hall closet and front doors both slammed behind him with enough violence to make all of them wince.

"Maybe I better go after him . . ." Jessie said and took off at a run.

"It shouldn't take them more than ten minutes or so to get here," Benton said. "That will give us enough time to get the Compound secured so it can be left safely."

"Dr. Quest, I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to leave here right now," Bennett objected. "We have no idea if this is a set up, or . . . "

Benton turned on him in anger. "This is one of my son's best friends . . . our housekeeper's nephew, for God's sake! We can't just sit here . . . "

"But, it's not safe . . . " Both men's voices were steadily rising and a full-blown argument seemed about ready to erupt. But before it could get that far, Race stepped in.

"No, Benton, he's right. You need to stay here . . . all of you do. And safety isn't the only issue. We need to make time. Jim and Donna have got to get to that boy as quickly as possible. The more weight we put in the chopper, the longer it's going to take to make the trip. And I sure as hell don't want Jonny going along . . . not if Francesca Hamilton is there and had any kind of a hand in this."

"Well, _I'm_ going!" Estella said firmly. "Donna is going to need the support. I know exactly what she's going through and I won't leave her to sit in the back of that bird all alone while the two of you take the front and ignore her. She must be half out of her mind. I'm going to get a sweater. I'll be right back."

"We'll call," Race promised. "The instant we know anything, we'll call. I promise you. The important thing right now is to get them there and see how badly Bobby is hurt."

"Will you come directly back?" Benton asked, accepting the logic of the situation, even if it didn't make him happy. They all followed Race as he crossed to the entryway closet and began pulling out coats.

"Depends. Rumford's a good hospital. I've worked search and rescue in that area a couple of times. And they're accustomed to dealing with skiing accidents since they're the closest hospital to Sugarloaf. But it's still a relatively small community and they generally do initial triage, stabilize the injuries, and then evac the patients to Rochester or Portsmouth. They have a helipad, but their air evac service comes out of Rochester. If they're planning to move him out to a bigger facility, I'll probably hang around and take care of it myself. But either way, I'll call."

"AN UNIDENTIFIED VEHICLE HAS JUST TURNED OFF THE MAIN HIGHWAY ONTO THE ROAD LEADING TO THIS FACILITY," IRIS warned.

Benton whirled and snapped, "Admiral! Your men outside of the perimeter fence. You need to warn them . . . " But Bennett was already on the phone.

Race and the others came out the front door just as Jim and Donna Evans came up the front drive. Race waved at them frantically, pointing them toward the landing strip and aircraft storage buildings on the edge of the plateau. In the distance, they could hear the distinct whine of the helicopter engine as it came to life and began to wind up. The members of the Quest family followed on foot and came up to the car just as Jim and Donna Evans climbed out.

"This way!" Race yelled and led the group around a large metal building. They were met by a blast of icy wind as they rounded the corner, and in front of them they could see a large white helicopter with a stylized Quest logo on one side, idling on the helipad. Jonny, who was standing on the ground next to the chopper, saw them and crossed the pad at a jog.

"She's warmed and ready to go," Jonny yelled to Race over the noise of the engine. "Jess is doing the preflight check and logging your flight itinerary with the local FAA office right now."

"Good!" Race turned back and saw that Estella already had Donna Evans in hand. The woman was extremely upset and Race was grateful to know that Estella would care for her. He turned back to Jim and yelled, "Where's Matt?"

Jim Evans shook his head. "He had a date tonight and we don't know where he was going. We have no idea of how reach him . . ."

Race turned to Jonny. "You've got to find Matt! Find him, tell him what's going on, and bring him back here."

"I want to go with you," Jonny yelled back.

"NO! No one but Estella is going with us. We need to keep the weight load down. YOU need to find Matt before he hears about this in some way he shouldn't. Got me?"

Jonny didn't look happy, but he nodded. "Jess, Hadji, Kefira and I will go," he yelled back. "There's safety in numbers."

Race nodded once and then turned to Jim and Donna. "On the chopper. Let's go!" As the two crossed the helipad, Race turned back to Benton. "We'll call."

Benton nodded and waved them on their way.

Sixty-five minutes later, Race set the Quest chopper down neatly on the helipad in the parking lot of Rumford Community Hospital. He shut it down rapidly and the four of them climbed out and ran for the building not far away. A middle-aged man in a white lab coat met them at the door.

"Which of you are Jim and Donna Evans?" he demanded without preliminaries.

"Here," Jim replied and he put an arm around his wife. "My son . . . how is he?"

"Holding his own right now. He's gotten no worse, which is a good sign."

They started down a long corridor en masse, the doctor talking with them as they moved. "He ended up with numerous broken bones, including the tibia and fibula in his right leg, the femur in his left, the radius and ulna in his right arm, his right collar bone, and three ribs. He also broke his pelvis in three separate places. All of that will mend, given time. Those aren't the injuries we're worried about."

"Then what . . . "Jim said hoarsely.

The doctor shook his head. "He has a relatively severe skull fracture. The girl with him says she's not sure what he hit . . . that he was on his feet until the very end . . . which means it must have happened right at the end of the accident. And help reached them very quickly because the rescue teams knew he was in trouble almost from the start."

Ahead of them, Race spotted four young men in ski outfits lingering in the corridor outside of a door into one of the patient rooms. The outfits were all identical and Race recognized them as the uniforms of the Sugarloaf safety and rescue team. As they approached, the doctor waved at them and said, "This is the team that got him down off the mountain and got him here."

Jim held out his hand to them and said, "I-I want to thank you."

"No thanks necessary," one of them replied. "It's what we do. He's actually very lucky. If it hadn't been for . . . " He broke off abruptly as the door opened and Francesca Hamilton stood there. She looked haggard and exhausted and it was immediately obvious that she had been crying. She also seemed to move with difficulty, as though she was in pain. As she stood there looking at them silently, the tears began sliding down her cheeks again. Then she stepped back and opened the door fully, allowing them to see into the room.

Bobby lay in the bed closest to the door. His eyes were closed, and he almost seemed to have stopped breathing. Race could hear the low beep of monitors and he was reminded sharply of standing in a hospital much like this one in Cairo two years before. Both of Bobby's legs were splinted and a complex traction apparatus elevated his legs and held him immobile from the waist down. They had the unbroken arm strapped down and a complex tangle of monitor wires and IV tubing snaked from it to the various machines nearby. His head was totally wrapped in bandages and it was difficult to tell where the bandages ended and the pallor of his face began. Donna Evans whimpered and, pulling loose from her husband, she ran to her son's side. With a swift look at Race, Estella followed her, catching her by the shoulders and speaking urgently to the distraught woman. Donna reached out and touched her son's face gently and then turned away, crying hard. Estella caught her and hugged her, offering what comfort she could.

Race stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of Francesca's coat, and hauled the girl out of the room. Moving a short way down the corridor, he thrust her down onto a bench along the wall with a sharp shove, and planted himself directly in front of her. "What the hell happened here?" he demanded furiously. "What have you done this time?"

All of the others had followed Race, and now, Jim Evans reached out to grab her by the shoulders and shake her violently. "What have you done to my son???" he yelled. "He wasn't even supposed to be out of the house! You knew that! He wasn't supposed to be any where near you . . . " The doctor grabbed the older man and pulled him back as his violent handling of the girl caused her to smack her head against the wall. The young men from Sugarloaf held him and a confusion of voices rose.

"Quiet!" Race snapped, stilling the tumult. He turned back to Francesca and demanded coldly. "What happened?"

"We . . . we wanted to go skiing," Francesca replied in a dull voice. "Bobby had had a fight with his dad and he was angry. When I found out, I-I tried to go home . . . I didn't want to get him in trouble, but he said he didn't care. He wanted to go. We . . . talked about going to Camden, but we'd been there so much . . . and . . . and I think he was afraid that if we went there, that his dad would come looking and find us. So we decided to go somewhere else. I suggested we go to one of the resorts up near Bangor, but he knew that I'd wanted to go to Sugarloaf, so he decided we'd go there. I-I tried to tell him it was too far, but . . . but he wouldn't listen . . ." She put her hand over her mouth and sobbed suddenly. "We only wanted to have some fun and spend the day together . . . "

"Had he fallen?" Race asked coldly, not the least bit phased by her apparent distress.

After a struggle to get herself in control again, she nodded and swallowed hard. "Once, but it wasn't a bad fall and he wasn't hurt. It was right before lunch and we were both tired. We went in and had something to eat and rested. We were going to do one more run and then head for home. 

"But why that run?" Jim demanded. "He wasn't skilled enough for that. He had no business being there!"

Francesca looked at him with haunted eyes. "I-I told him that I wanted to make that run. I'm a good skier . . . I've done Olympic courses in other places, and I wanted to do this one. I-I asked him to stay . . . at the lodge. Said he could watch me from the porch, but he wouldn't. He insisted on coming along. We'd done the lower section of the run that morning and he'd done pretty well. And I didn't know the course . . . I'd never done it before, so I really didn't know what to expect. When we got to the top, I was watching the other skiers and I realized how hard it was. We argued about it, and I tried to stop him, but . . . but . . . he wouldn't _listen_! And then the starter gave him the green and he took off and . . . " She shuddered and stopped again.

"It's true, sir," one of the young men volunteered. "I was the starter. They were arguing, although I couldn't tell what about. She even tried to grab him and pull him out of the starting box, but he ducked her hands and took off. She went after him, screaming like a banshee. It was how we knew so quickly that there was a problem."

"You should be really grateful she was there," another one volunteered. "We were working as spotters along the course. The resort puts unobtrusive spotters on several of the really difficult trails in case we get a skier onto one of them that gets into trouble." The young man shook his head. "He didn't know how to control his speed and she took crazy risks to stay with him. I saw her make a jump that I don't think anyone else would ever have considered. But it was the one that saved him. He was going way too fast, and she managed to get out in front of him, so that when they came out into the bald about half way down, she was able to turn and knock him down."

"She _deliberately_ caused him to fall?" Jim said, shaken. "She could have killed him!"

"Yes, but . . . "

"I couldn't let him get back in the trees," she said dully. "I couldn't . . ."

"She's right," the leader of the group said quietly. "By that time, the only chance to save him was to knock him down where there was enough open ground for him to slide without hitting anything. If he'd gotten back into the trees again, with his speed, he was sure to strike one and it would have killed him. The only reason he's alive now is because of her actions." He shook his head. "It's a miracle she came out of it hurt no worse than she is."

Race turned away, dissatisfied. He didn't believe a word of this, but there was nothing he could do to dispute it. Catching Jim Evans, he drew him back up the hallway. He was shaking so badly he could hardly stand. Race pressed him down to sit on a bench a little way down the hall and sat down beside him.

"Leave it, Jim," Race said to him quietly. "There's nothing we can do." The two men sat quietly for a long moment as Race thought about what Francesca and the others had told him. He glanced over at her again. She was still slumped where he had left her. As Race watched, she rose and turned to move back toward the hospital room where Bobby lay. She moved slowly, with one hand against the nearby wall for support. She wasn't acting . . . she was in pain, that was clear . . . and from all indications she had a right to be. Race had been on that course and knew just how difficult it actually was. It was a miracle she had been able to accomplish what she had, and that Bobby was still alive. Risking her life for someone else seemed totally out of character for the Francesca Hamilton he knew, and yet all the evidence seemed to say that was exactly what she had done. Was it possible she was telling the truth? Could it be that she had never intended to get the boy hurt at all, and that this was just what it appeared . . . a tragic accident? And could it be that she _had_ changed . . . and was here for exactly the reasons that she claimed?

The doctor approached the two men again, and they looked up at him.

"So what happens now?" Jim asked.

"We wait," the doctor said quietly. "Only time will tell."

Jim took a deep breath, as though steeling himself, and then asked, "What _could_ happen? What can we expect?"

"At this point there is no good way of knowing for certain. Unless something goes desperately wrong, I don't think his life is in danger. But there is a great deal of inflammation in the brain tissue and, like any other tissue had had been damaged, it is swollen. That's putting pressure on his skull. As the swelling goes down, we'll be able to tell more."

"I mean, when the swelling goes down and he wakes up . . . how much damage . . . "

"There's no way to know at this point, Mr. Evans. He could lay comatose for several days and then wake up and be just fine. It's likely that, even if that happened, he would suffer from some minor memory loss . . . for example, he may not remember the entire day of the accident. Those memories may come back in time or they may not. It's hard to say."

"That's best case scenario," Jim said harshly. "If the worst happens . . . what then?"

The doctor looked at the distraught father for a long moment before he said quietly, "He could wake up with brain damage. If that's the case, and considering where the blow on the head occurred, he could lose all motor control . . . not be able to walk or sit up or even control his body functions. The autonomic functions should be all right, as should his cognitive abilities. Neither of those areas of the brain was near the injury point." Then he sighed. "Or he may never wake up at all. He could lie just as you see him now for a very long time." The man knelt in front of Jim Evans. "The point to remember here, sir, is that it is simply too early to know. The most we can do right now is wait and see. But there is some hope. He hasn't been suffering seizures. That may still come, but the longer he goes without them the better the likelihood is that he won't. And that's a sign that the damage isn't as bad as it could be."

"Are you planning to move him to a larger facility?" Race asked quietly. The doctor shook his head.

"No. There is really very little a larger facility could do for him at this point, and I'd prefer not to move him. Maybe, in a few days, when the swelling has had the chance to go down, but not just yet."

A sudden, loud commotion from Bobby's room caused all three of them to rise and move quickly in that direction. Race arrived first, to find Estella desperately trying to hold Donna Evans. Donna, in turn, appeared furious, and was yelling and lunging at Francesca. The words were incoherent, but Race didn't need to hear them to know what was going on. Jim pushed past and went directly to his wife. He caught her in his arms and held her tightly, crooning to her in a soft voice. Then he turned and looked at Race.

"Get her out of here." The look he turned on the young woman was harsh and filled with fury. "You stay away from my son! I don't ever want you near him again."

Race moved quickly, catching Francesca's arm and pulling her out of the room. Estella followed them closely, pulling the door closed behind her. Francesca simply stood, head bowed and crying silently. Race guided her to the bench along the wall again, and ordered, "Stay there!" Then he moved several feet away, drawing Estella with him.

"Keep an eye on her, will you, Stel?" he said, nodding toward Francesca. "Don't let her go back into that room. Jim and Donna won't tolerate her being there. I'm going to call Benton."

Estella nodded and leaned against the wall, staring at the dark-haired girl in silence. Francesca didn't so much as look up. Race started to pull out the cell phone, but Estella stopped him with a shake of her head. "Not here," she warned. "You know you can't use one of those things in a hospital. You'll have to use the pay phone over there. Come on, I can keep an eye on her from there and I want to hear what you have to say to Benton."

The two moved to the phone and Race rummaged around in his pockets hunting for change. Estella shook her head in disgust and pulled her wallet out of her pocket. She searched briefly and then handed him her calling card. "And here you are, the one who is supposedly always prepared!"

A half-hearted grin flickered as he began the dialing process. The phone didn't even complete it's first ring before it was answered.

"Benton Quest."

"It's Race."

"How bad?" he demanded without preliminaries.

"Bad enough. Lots of broken bones and a closed head injury."

"What are the doctors saying?"

"Not much, at this point. We're in a holding pattern. They aren't going to move him . . . they feel he's better off staying where he is for now."

"Jim and Donna?"

"A mess, as you'd expect."

Benton sighed heavily. "Those poor people. They don't deserve this." Then his voice hardened. "And Francesca Hamilton? I assume she caused this."

Race was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he replied, "Oddly enough, it doesn't look like she did. It looks like Bobby got himself in over his head and he's alive now because of her."

"Hang on a minute . . . IRIS, put this on speaker . . . okay, now start again. What exactly happened?" Benton voice now seemed to echo a bit and Race knew that IRIS was broadcasting his voice to anyone in the room.

Race started over, relating everything that he had been told since arriving. "Everyone that was there insists . . . she tried to stop him and when she couldn't, she went after him and almost got herself killed trying to save him," he finally concluded.

"Bobby would never have tried that run if she hadn't goaded him into it!" a new voice said. After a moment, Race identified it as Matt Evans. "He knows his limits!"

"How badly was she hurt?" Benton asked.

"I don't know. I didn't ask the doctor about her injuries." Estella tapped him on shoulder and gestured for the phone imperatively. "Hang on. It looks like Stel knows something on that score." He passed the phone to her.

"I had a chance to talk with the duty nurse. She says that Francesca has no major injuries, but that she is pretty badly bruised . . . enough so that she's going to have to be under a doctor's care. Evidently, when they fell she slid at a relatively high rate of speed for several hundred yards before coming to a stop. It's left her with a tremendous amount of blood under the skin and there's some risk of pooling and blood clots. The nurse also says that she's strained some muscles in her legs pretty severely, and she doubts she's going to be moving well for quite a while." Estella glanced up the corridor at the girl again. "At the moment, it's all she can do to stand and move a few feet."

Race gestured for the phone again and, when he got it back, he commented, "I think the thing we need to do now is to get her back to the Conners residence. Having her here is grating on Jim and Donna pretty severely. I think the doctor will allow her to leave. Can you call Barbara and let her know we're coming?"

"You're going to bring her here, then?" Benton asked.

"No. I won't have her within the confines of the Compound. Something stinks about the whole thing. I just don't know what it is yet. There's an intersection just up from the Conners' place that's big enough to set the chopper down. Call them and let them know we're coming, and let Barbara know that's what we're doing. I don't know if she'll want to check her out or not, but at least she'll know she's inheriting a patient." He checked his watch. "We should be able to be there by 10:00 or so. We'll drop Francesca off and then come home. Tomorrow morning, Matt can pick up some stuff for his parents and I'll fly him back here to be with the rest of them." He looked up and frowned at Estella who was shaking her head sharply. "Hang on, Benton . . . what?"

"I'm not going back. I'm going to stay here with Jim and Donna. Neither one of them are up to dealing with things right now. I can ride back with you tomorrow when you bring Matt."

"That's not a good idea, Estella. I said this whole thing smells, and it does. It's not safe for you to be here alone."

"It's a hospital, for heaven's sake! I'll be fine."

"They have already tried to hurt you once. I can't leave you here!"

"Well, I'm not going back!" She sighed in exasperation. "Race, I don't care how much the set up smells, I'm safe here. There is a wealth of people around. And furthermore, they want you, not me. If there really is someone here watching us, they're going to follow you when you leave." Before he could say another word, she turned. "I'm going to get that girl out to the chopper. You finish with Benton, check in with Jim and Donna, and then get out there. I'll wait with her until you arrive."

"But . . ." he started to say, but by that time she was already gone. He swore in irritation. **"ESTELLA!!!** Look, Benton, I better go. I'll see you as soon as I can . . . " 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Main House  
Quest Compound**

Back in the Quest Compound, the other members of the family exchanged looks. 

"Race will never let her stay," Jonny predicted.

"He won't have a choice," Jessie replied. "I know my mother . . . and I know that tone of voice . . . she's not leaving."

Benton frowned worriedly. "Admiral, is there anything you can do . . ."

Bennett shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Quest, but they are just too far away. If someone does intend to attack her, anyone I sent would arrive way too late."

Benton sighed in frustration. "Well, then, all we can hope is that Race can convince her to come home." 

Jessie just snorted. "Fat chance!"

It was close to 11:00 that night when the Quests heard the sound of a chopper approaching the Compound. Just as the sound became audible, IRIS announced, "AN AIRBORNE VEHICLE IS APPROACHING THIS FACILITY. SIGNATURE TRANSMISSION IDENTIFIES IT AS QUEST COPTER ONE. IDENTITY HAS BEEN CONFIRMED. INSTRUCTIONS?"

"Allow them to land, IRIS, and then reinstitute security protocols," Benton instructed, moving rapidly toward the front door.

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

The entire family was waiting at the entrance when the lone figure emerged from the darkness.

"She wouldn't come, huh?" Jessie said, hugging her father.

"No," he replied shortly. Without another word, he strode across the entryway and into the family room. He picked up the phone and immediately dialed a number from memory. After a short wait, he said, "Jim? This is Race. Is Estella there? Can I talk with her? Yeah, thanks. I'll hold." They all watched as he fidgeted. Then he stiffened. "Stel? Are you okay? Nothing's happened?" He was silent for a moment, listening closely. "No, no problems. I turned her over to the Conners. You're sure you're okay? No sign of trouble?" Then he frowned. "I am _not_ being over protective. I have the right to be concerned. A group of men almost killed you the day before yesterday. I think I can be forgiven for being jumpy!" A lengthy pause ensued and Jessie could see her father struggling with his temper. "I am _NOT_ being overbearing! You shouldn't even be outside this Compound! It's not safe . . . "

Before things could go any further, Jessie jumped in. Smacking her father on the arm, she wrenched the phone out of his grasp and shoved him in Jonny's direction. Then she said into the phone, "Hi, Mom, it's me. Just calm down, okay? There's no need to fight. Yes, he's fine. No, I don't think anyone tried to attack him. He's perfectly safe and the security is back in place. No one's going to hurt him tonight. Yes, I'm sure. You're sure you're safe? He's really scared. Yes, I know . . . he's like that. No, he doesn't worry about himself . . . he never has . . . only about the rest of us. Yes, I'll look after him tonight. I promise. But you have to take care of yourself." Jessie eyed her father with a looked of thinly veiled humor as she continued to listen to her mother. "No, it's hasn't occurred to him yet, but it will. No, I won't let him." She grinned widely. "I'll have Jonny sit on him. Yes, I promise. Maybe you better talk to him again. He's going to burst a blood vessel if you don't. Yes, I will. You just be careful, okay? Alright, hold on a second." Jessie looked at her father. "She wants to talk to you again. Try not to fight, okay? It's pointless." Then she held out the phone to her father. Race glared at her as he took it.

"Stel? Yes. Yes, all right. _All right!_ Look, you forced me into it and I did what you wanted me to do, but you can't expect me to _**like**_ it!" Slowly the glare faded. After a moment, he sighed. "Yes, I know, and you're right. They don't need to be alone right now, and I know they appreciate your willingness to stay and help. You'll call if anything happens? All right. I'll get some sleep, I promise. You try to do the same. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Stel . . . I love you." A smile flickered briefly. "Goodnight, sweetheart." Slowly, he set the receiver in the cradle. Jessie laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"She'll be okay, Dad. And she'll be waiting for you in the morning."

"Maybe I should go back there tonight. Just to be safe."

Jessie grinned widely. "Jonny, come sit on him." Race did a double take, the significance of the one-sided conversation suddenly becoming clear.

"She knew I was going to suggest that."

"Of course she did," Jessie answered. "She knows you too well. We both do." Jess shook her head. "And, no, you can't go back tonight. You've been going too long today, and you've already done way too much night flying. What you need to do now is get some sleep so you'll be ready to fly again tomorrow."

"Yes . . . all right."

"And I think that's good advice for all of us," Benton added. "Let's call it a night." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Conners' Residence  
Rockport, Maine**

Francesca Hamilton lay in the dark, waiting. She was in pain . . . a lot of it . . . and she caught herself wishing that she had taken the painkillers the doctor had given her. But she didn't dare. She glanced at the clock . . . 11:55. Somehow, in about 20 minutes, she had to find the strength to get up out of this bed, get out of the house, and make her way to the top of Mt. Battie. It didn't matter that she wasn't even sure she could walk. If she didn't make that rendezvous with Baxter, she would be as dead as Bobby Evans would have been on that ski slope this afternoon. She had no way to reach Baxter to try and postpone. He'd send someone to find her if she didn't show, but it wouldn't be for the purpose of inquiring after her health. She knew that for certain. 

She listened to the silence that filled the house. Dr. Mason had been waiting when Francesca had arrived home. The older woman had checked her over, put her to bed and told the Conners to make sure she stayed there. Shortly after she left, everyone had gone to bed. Bannon's new wife had helped her to the chopper and gotten her strapped in so that she was ready to go when he arrived. She had watched them standing out on the helipad right before takeoff. They were arguing about something, although Francesca had no idea what. In the end, Bannon had climbed into the chopper and they had departed, leaving the woman behind. Francesca could tell that Bannon wasn't happy about that, but it seemed there was nothing he could do about it. The flight back had been an uncomfortable one. Bannon hadn't said a single word to her the entire trip. He had set the chopper down in the middle of the street not far from where she was staying, where the entire family had met them. Mr. Conners had thanked Race for bringing her home, Mrs. Conners had fussed over her, and the kids had tried to ask her all kinds of questions, but by and large they had simply packed her off to bed and left her alone. Bannon had left immediately, not even waiting to see they all got into the house.

She considered how she was going to get to the top of Mt. Battie. She knew the Conners well enough by this time to know that they would be sleeping very lightly, so there was no way she could come or go via the main doors of the house. That meant she had to go out the window. She sighed deeply. Second story work . . . in her condition . . . oh, yeah, this day was just getting better and better.


	13. Chapter 12 Monday, December 27

**Chapter 12**

  
Monday, December 27 

Conners Residence, Rockport, Maine   
Camden Hills State Park

Quest Compound Camden Harbor Lighthouse Laboratory, Quest Compound   


Francesca balanced precariously on the icy eave outside her bedroom window as the wind buffeted her. It whistled around the corner of the house and whipped her dark hair around her face wildly. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she knelt carefully and lay face down on the icy surface. Cautiously, she swung her legs over the edge and grasped the gutter downspout with both feet. She eased herself down slowly until she hung by her hands about twelve feet off of the ground. The pain was excruciating and flashes of light danced in front of her eyes. For a long moment, it was all she could do simply to keep from falling. Finally, she forced herself to shift one hand to the downspout. When she let go of the eave edge, she slithered down the drainpipe abruptly, unable to get good purchase on the freezing surface. Her legs, which should have helped control her descent, simply refused to take the strain and she slid all the way down to strike the ground with jarring force. Her legs folded under her and she ended up lying face down on the snow-covered ground.

After a long moment, she stirred and tried to force herself to move. She couldn't lie here like this. Already she could feel the cold seeping into her. Her coat . . . her boots . . . her gloves . . . all of that stuff had been downstairs in the coat closet next to the front door . . . a place she had not dared to try and reach. If the Conners had heard her and come to investigate, she never would have gotten out of the house. So on this dark, sub-zero night, she was leaving for her rendezvous with Baxter in little more than a pair of thermal underwear, a pair of blue jeans, and two sweaters to keep her warm. Finally, she stumbled to her feet and forced herself to move. She glanced at her watch . . . 12:47. She was going to be late. There was no way to prevent it, now. Not a good way to start a meeting with a man who was as notoriously volatile as Baxter.

It had begun to cloud up a little and the moon was playing tag with the scuttling clouds, changing the nightscape from brilliant moonlight to pitch darkness in the blink of an eye. She stumbled uncertainly up the street, contemplating her situation. She had to have transportation. There was no way she could get to the meeting place without a car. That part, at least, she had already planned out. Three houses down the street from the Conners' lived a man who loved cars. He also had two sons and a daughter who loved them as much as he did. The result was that the family had seven vehicles between them. This neighborhood was a good, solid, middle class area, which meant that the houses were around 75 years old or so, good sized, and sat on acre lots. However, few of them had garages . . . and certainly not enough garage space for seven cars. That meant that virtually all of the cars were parked along the street in front of the house. The streets were also rather narrow, so parking was allowed on only one side, and usually at least one or two of the vehicles were parked around the corner, out of sight of the house. Car theft was not her strong suit and she rarely resorted to it, but tonight she would make an exception.

As she rounded the corner, the clouds suddenly cleared from the moon so she could see again, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks. The car at the head of the line of parked vehicles was the daughter's Dodge Neon . . . no alarm system, easy to break into, straightforward to hotwire, and extremely common in the area. No cop would look at it twice if they happened to see it driving down Route 1. Within two minutes, she was in the car and moving away from the neighborhood at a carefully legal rate of speed. Reaching out, she cranked up the heater and shivered, as she waited for the engine to heat up enough to begin allowing it to blow warm air.

It was about three miles from the Conners house to the turnoff to Camden Hills State Park and the road to the viewing area, but she had to go through Camden to get there. She drove with care, faithfully obeying all of the traffic laws. While she never spotted a cop, she couldn't run the risk of getting stopped for anything. Everything seemed quiet, and eventually she reached the turnoff to the park. She made the turn and then stomped hard on the brake, coming to a sliding halt against the metal barricade across the road. Mounted on the gate was a large black and white sign that read, "CLOSED FOR THE SEASON". She stared at it for a long minute, uncomprehending. When Baxter had told her to meet him here, it hadn't occurred to her that the park might be seasonal. Anger flared abruptly. This was just _great._ What was the man doing?

Slowly, she got out of the car. It was a typical, park service gate . . . make of round metal tubes welded together and mounted by heavy hinges to a metal post set into the ground on one side of the drive. In season, the gate stood open during the day, allowing people to pass freely in and out of the park. At night, it was swung closed and secured with a heavy chain and a padlock to a second post on the other side of the road. As she approached the gate, she noted that the drive into the park, as well as what ground she could see on the other side, had been plowed. She could also tell that a roadway of sorts has been cleared, as well. Someone obviously took the effort to keep the area at least partially accessible. She reached into her pocket for her lock picks, glancing quickly in both directions to assure herself that she was still alone. But when she picked up the padlock, she found it open. The hasp still held the loops to the chain that held the gate closed, but someone before her had already picked the lock. She had to do nothing more than unfasten it and swing the gate open. She looked at her watch again . . . 1:05 . . . she needed to move.

She unfastened the chain and gave the gate a sharp shove. It swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. She hurried back to the car, drove it through the entrance, and then got back out and secured the gate behind her again. She might be late, but she couldn't risk having a cop cruise by and see the gate standing open. Back in the car again, she accelerated as quickly as she could, following the plowed path through the snow. She made it as far as the back of the day use area before the road she was following ended. If she were to make it to the top, she would have to walk from here. She sat in the car, the motor idling, staring at the wall of snow in front of her numbly. She couldn't do it . . . it simply was beyond her strength. It would have been taxing enough if she had been fit and properly outfitted against the cold, but with no cold weather wear and in the physical condition she was currently in, there was no way she was going to be able to make it to the summit. She leaned forward and lay her forehead against the steering wheel in exhaustion.

Suddenly, the driver's door was yanked open and she was grabbed and dragged violently out of the car. Rough hands forced her to her feet and held her in a cruel grip as she heard the light, cold voice from the night before say, "You're late."

Adrenaline coursed through her system and anger gripped her again. She hardly even noticed the jolt of pain that shot through her leg as she brought her leg up sharply between his legs with all her strength A strangled cry of pain exploded out of him and he released her abruptly. "Screw you!" she said in fury. "You keep your hands off of me! I'm here. That's what counts. Now where is your boss? Let's get this over with."

"You always did have nerve," another voice said, and suddenly she could see shadows surrounding her in the darkness. There were more people than she had expected, but she couldn't see any of their faces in the dim light. It took her a minute to identify the new voice.

"Edgerton," she said in disgust. "I should have expected to find you here. Always trotting along at the end of his leash, aren't you?"

"Venomous to the end," the man replied with a nasty chuckle. "You're lucky you're still alive, you little witch . . . after that fiasco in Cairo."

Francesca shrugged negligently. "I'm still here, aren't I? And that means you know the truth about what happened. Your own people caused that screw up, Edgerton, and you know it. Keller was over the top. You need to get people with better control if you really want things to run smoothly for you."

"Like you, you mean?"

Francesca didn't say anything for a minute, allowing them to wait. Finally, she replied, "Well, now, that just depends, doesn't it?"

"On what?" THAT voice she knew immediately. Marking it's location in the dark, she turned toward Baxter without hesitation.

"On just exactly what you can do for me."

"You're playing an extremely dangerous game, Ms. Hamilton," Baxter said coldly. "I am not a patient man, nor am I accustomed to bargaining. I get what I want under my own terms. Period."

"Fine," she replied, with an exaggerated gesture that was visible to all of them in the sudden gleam of the fitful moonlight. "You don't want to bargain? Then kill me." She could sense the sudden shock and surprise that statement triggered and she smiled. "I'm trapped in a town that hates me, with people that watch me like hawks. I have no resources of my own, my face used to be plastered on fugitive flyers from here to Hong Kong and back, and my appearance is distinctive enough that I'll be recognized anywhere I go. The only family I have is my father, and he's still locked up in that stinking Egyptian jail. Plus, I've had a really _shitty_ day, so the way I look at it, things can't get much worse. I have nothing left to lose. So if you want to put me out of my misery, you go right ahead." She paused briefly. "But then again, if you do that, you won't get whatever it is you want out of me, will you? So what's it going to be, Baxter?"

The silence stretched out for a long time. Then, suddenly, Baxter began to laugh. "Edgerton's right . . . you've got nerve. I like that. You've got a lot more style than your worthless old man ever had."

"That may be, but he's still my father, and I want him back."

"Well, then I think we've got a problem."

"Why? You saying that you, the all powerful Richard Elias Baxter, can't bust one single man out of an Egyptian jail?"

"I can do a great many things, Francesca . . ." he replied, suddenly sounding downright friendly. Francesca could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise and knew this was a bad sign. " . . . but I am not a miracle worker." 

"What do you mean?"

"Your father has been dead for close to three months."

Francesca stood like a stone, totally unmoving, her mind suddenly as frozen as her body. _Dead?_ she thought numbly. _He can't be dead . . . can he?_

"You're lying," she said harshly.

"No, it's true. I'd heard rumors to that effect earlier, but I confirmed it today after I received your message from our mutual acquaintance over there. He is quite definitely dead."

"How?"

"A dispute with several of the guards over ownership of some contraband, from what I'm given to understand. They slit his belly open and left him in his cell with his guts lying all over the floor. The rats took care of the rest."

She turned away and leaned against the car, barely even able to stand any longer. Nothing. She had absolutely nothing left. All of her life, the only stable thing she had ever had was her father. Life with him had never been easy. They never stayed in one place for very long, so she never had the chance to make friends or develop roots anywhere. He had been petty and vindictive at times, and there was very little he was not willing to do for money. He would use her in almost any way he could if he thought it would earn him a buck. He had always stopped short of selling her for sexual purposes, but she was fairly sure that was only because he understood that, in the long run, she could net him more money as a thief than as chattel. But all of that aside, he had clothed her and kept her fed, cared for her when she became sick, and had not allowed anyone to take her away from him or abuse her. At some indefinable level, they had bonded, and the grief that filled her at the realization of his death threatened to drive her to her knees.

"The question now is, are you made of stronger stuff than your old man was?" Baxter asked her callously.

Those words were like an arrow through her very soul. A silent rage filled her. Someone would pay for this! She raised her head. Without turning, she replied, "What is it that you want?" Her voice was cold and hard and sounded so much like her father's that it shook her momentarily.

From the startled silence that followed her question, Baxter heard it, too. After a moment, he cleared his throat and replied, "Do you have access to the Quest Compound?"

"Yes, I can get it."

"Good." Baxter stepped forward and laid something on the top of the car in front of her. "Follow those instructions to the letter and then wait to hear from me." Baxter paused, waiting for her to respond, but she remained silent and immobile. "Accomplish this, girl, and you have a position in my organization for life. Fail me, and I'll leave you in the same state as your father."

"I'll finish the job," she replied. "You can count on it." She pushed herself upright and took the packet from the top of the car. Opening the door, she threw it onto the front seat, got into the vehicle without another word, and drove away.

Baxter and the people with him stood watching her departure. Finally, a voice broke the silence.

"You can't trust her," Julia said.

"She'll do what she's told," Baxter replied. "She has no other choice." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Her rage was the only thing that got her back to Rockport. She parked the car where she had found it, made her way back to the Conners house, scaled the drainpipe, and returned to her bedroom. By the time she climbed in the window and closed it, the pain in her legs was unbearable. She took two steps into the center of the room and then fell heavily, unable to force her abused body to go any further. She lay where she fell, waiting for Mr. or Mrs. Conners to come and investigate the sound, but neither of them did. She turned her head and squinted at the clock on the other side of the room . . . 3:10 a.m. Truly, the dead of night.

Dead.

Her father was dead. She was alone.

It was possible that Baxter had been lying to her, but somehow, she doubted it. For one thing, he had nothing to gain. Francesca was enough of a realist to know that in the grand scheme of things, her father was a little man. It would have been easy for Baxter to free him if he was still alive . . . easier, in fact, than to try and pull off the lie. But that wasn't what convinced her. It was Leeds that caused her to believe. Again, the rage boiled up in her. Leeds had known all along that David Hamilton was dead. Three months, Baxter had said. That meant he had been dead long before Leeds ever got her out of Egypt. So he had been lying to her from the beginning . . . stringing her along to get what he wanted.

Slowly, she dragged herself across the floor until she reached her bed. Reaching up, she pulled herself up as best she could until she was sprawled on top of it. Sitting up painfully, she reached for the bottle of pills sitting on the table nearby. She opened the bottle, shook one of them out onto her palm and swallowed it, resisting the temptation to take more than one. They were painkillers and she had to be careful with them.

She stripped off her clothes and slid down between the sheets, knowing that the moment she relaxed, her abused body would shut down and there would be no moving before morning. As she lay there, the heat from the electric blanket slowly seeping through her, she thought of the events of the previous afternoon for the first time. Like most professional thieves, her father had been superstitious, and he had passed that on to her. At the time it had been happening, she thought she had gone after Bobby on the ski slope because she didn't want anything disrupting her plans, but now she was beginning to wonder. She thought she had nothing left, but that wasn't entirely true. She had one thing . . . she had Bobby Evans.

In all of her life, no one had ever told her they loved her. When Bobby had said it to her yesterday morning, she had felt little more than smug satisfaction. But then he had given her some small taste of what that really meant when he insisted on following her up onto that mountain and risking his life simply so she didn't have to go alone. As she thought about it again, she shivered.

Was fate giving her one last chance? She was at a crossroads. She could continue the life she had always known. Baxter had made an offer . . . do what he wanted and she would have a place. To stay in his good graces, she would have to continue to be successful, but as long as she was, she could probably have anything she wanted. But Bobby offered her another choice . . . a totally different life. She was clean now . . . had 'paid her debt'. She could turn away from everything she had ever known to try building a life on the other side of the law. No more running . . . no more fear . . . and someone who claimed to love her and really wanted her for herself rather than what she could get for him. Could she learn to honestly live the life she had been pretending to lead? She didn't know. There were times when she was so bored here, she thought she could scream. And yet . . . she liked the feeling that Bobby's concern for her had triggered. She wanted that to continue . . . particularly now. She didn't want to be alone.

That made her think of her father, and the grief welled up once again. Unexpectedly, she began to cry. As she realized what she was doing, she fought against her tears. Her father never tolerated weakness. It was the one thing that would make him hit her . . . a lesson she had learned very early. She couldn't even remember the last time she had cried. Now she fought to find that strength again. Whatever she decided to do later, there was still business that she had to attend to.

Vengeance was another lesson that she had learned very early in her life. People paid for the things they did to the Hamiltons. When Leeds had brought her back to Rockport, her intention was to make Jessie Bannon pay for the Cairo mess. But tonight, as Leeds' duplicity had become clear, Francesca's priorities had changed. With a clarity she had never experienced before, she saw that the things that had happened to her and her father weren't Jessie Bannon's doing. They weren't even Jonny Quest's fault. They had simply been the weapons, but the person truly responsible for Cairo was Keller, and he was dead. Baxter had played a role in that as well, but that she wasn't prepared to consider yet. Yes, before she made any final decisions on her future, she needed to take care of business. And that business was Connor Leeds. He was the one that would pay for this. So she had to come up with a plan. However, before she could follow that thought any further, the day's activities finally caught up with her, and between one thought and the next, she lapsed into sleep. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Pentagon, Washington D.C.**

Connor Leeds sat at his desk in a pool of early morning sunlight and frowned at the papers in front of him. It was another negative report on the continuing search to locate Baxter. Leeds tossed it into his out basket in disgust. They were getting nowhere! He was restless. The waiting was getting him down and he knew that if something didn't break soon, he was going to go stir crazy. The ringing phone on his desk jarred him out of his reverie. He picked it up and said, "Leeds."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a woman on the phone insisting to speak to you. She won't give her name, but the call came in on the line you use only for informants."

Excitement flared as he said, "Put her through." A few clicks in the receiver and then he repeated, "Leeds."

"Do you want him?" a familiar voice asked.

"Yes."

"Then be out by the harbor waterfall behind Camden Deli at 4:00." Before he could say another word, the line went dead.

_So the game begins,_ he thought. Punching another button on the phone, he said, "Have them get my car ready . . . "

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**Conners' Residence  
Rockport, Maine**

Francesca hung up the phone and smiled grimly. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless, but her unconscious mind had obviously continued to work, because she had woken with a plan. The first step involved executing Baxter's instructions. She checked them first thing this morning and saw immediately how she could get the ball rolling for both Baxter and herself. Leeds was the key. She would never be able to get to the computer at the Quest Compound, but Leeds could. So she would get him to do her dirty work. This even had the added benefit of ensuring that she could position herself with an ironclad alibi so everyone would be forced into assuming she was not responsible.

Gingerly, she slid to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over the edge. Pain stabbed at her sharply, but after the first spasm, it dulled to a steady ache. With a deep breath, she shoved herself upright, attempting to stand. The wave of pain that struck her wrenched a strangled cry from her and she collapsed back onto the bed. Fear gripped her as she wondered if she had done additional damage with her late night excursion. The doctor had warned her to stay in bed for several days and give her legs a chance to start healing. Finally, taking a deep breath, she tried a second time. Once more, the pain struck her, but this time she managed to keep her feet. Slowly, it receded and she began moving around the room with a slow, shuffling gate as she tried to regain some flexibility. After several minutes, she turned reluctantly back to the nightstand beside her bed. The pain medication was going to be necessary if she was to make her rendezvous with Leeds. Just as she finished swallowing the pill, there was a knock on the door. Sinking into a sitting position on the bed, she called, "Come in."

The door opened and Lillian Conners looked in. Her expression immediately became concerned when she saw Francesca sitting on the side of the bed. "You shouldn't be up, dear," she said, crossing to her quickly. "Dr. Mason says you should stay quiet for several days."

"Yes, ma'am, I know," Francesca replied. "But I just can't lie here. All I do is think about . . . about B-bobby and . . ." The catch in her throat was surprisingly real as she faltered and fell silent.

_You're going soft,_ a portion of her mind jeered at her.

'I'm _not,_' she argued silently. 'She needs to believe I feel remorse over his injuries.'

_Well, don't you?_ the other part of her mind replied instantly. _Just because he showed some interest in you doesn't mean he's always going to be there. He wants something . . . they all do. Sooner or later, he'll expect repayment._

'Bobby's not like that!'

_Of course he is! Everyone is . . . everyone wants something from you. The only one who really cares about you and what you want, is you. You're a fool to think any differently._

'Maybe that's not true . . . ' she thought hesitantly.

_Yeah, right,_ the voice said sarcastically. _Like a complete stranger is ever gonna care what happens to you. Even your own father didn't care._

'He cared!'

_Not beyond what you could get for him._

"Francesca?" Lillian Conners' voice finally penetrated to her conscious mind and when she focused, she realized she was crying. The older woman sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sure he'll be just fine, dear. Bobby's a good boy and I can't believe that the Lord will see fit to take him from you now."

"Why does everything in my life turn out so awful, Mrs. Conners? I try so hard . . . "

"I know. I know you do. But everything happens for reasons in this life, Francesca. I really do believe that. Someday, you'll look back on all of this and realize why things happened the way they did, and you'll be grateful for them. All you can do right now is just get through them the best that you can and believe that things will get better."

Francesca sniffed and used her hand to wipe away the tears. "I guess," she replied.

"I'll tell you what. Why don't you call the hospital and find out how Bobby is. If you're that concerned, you need to know."

"They won't talk to me," she said dispiritedly. "They wouldn't even let me stay with him last night. Mrs. Evans was screaming at me, and Mr. Evans told me that I could never see Bobby again. They think I hurt him deliberately."

"No, they don't, child," Lillian said consolingly. "They were just upset and scared last night. They will be better this morning. They are both fair, open-minded people. Call. Once they know how concerned you are, they won't be so quick to judge." Lillian Conners hugged her again as she rose. "Then you have to go back to bed. Rest is what you need now."

She continued to sit for a long moment, staring at the phone. Finally, taking a deep breath, she consulted a piece of paper lying by the bed and then began dialing. Mrs. Conners looked on. As the phone began to ring in her ear, she wondered what she was going to say to whomever answered the phone.

"Rumford Community Hospital. How may I direct your call?"

"Room 142 please," she replied steadily.

"One moment please." After a brief pause, the phone began to ring again. Then, with a sharp click, the ringing stopped and a voice said,

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Bannon? This is Francesca Hamilton. Please don't hang up . . ." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


** Quest Compound**

Race had left the Quest Compound at dawn to return to Rumford. Despite the arguments of the others, he had taken only Matt Evans with him. He told Benton that things were moving toward a major confrontation . . . he could feel it . . . and he did not want anyone out where they would be a ready target. Jessie knew that much of what was driving him was fear for her mother, and in the end, they all agreed to stay behind. The trip to Rumford and back went without incident and he and Estella were back safely before noon. Admiral Bennett was still there, seemingly prepared to settle in and make himself part of the family.

Everyone gathered together around the big dining room table as Jonny set a large pot of lobster stew in the center of the table. Hadji added hot bread and an assortment of fresh vegetables and then joined the others.

"So you were on for meal detail today, huh Jonny?" Race asked as he ladled soup into bowls and passed them around.

Jonny nodded, his mouth already full. He swallowed hastily and said, "Yeah, Hadji and I were up for lunch. I think you're it for dinner, though."

"This is wonderful!" Bennett exclaimed, spooning up another mouthful of stew.

"It's Mrs. Evans' recipe," Jonny replied. The reminder caused everyone at the table to fall silent.

Finally, Benton sighed and asked the question they were all dreading to hear. "So, how is he?"

"Still holding his own," Estella replied quietly. She looked exhausted and everyone wondered how much sleep she had managed to get. "It was a rough night. He went into a seizure at about 2:00 this morning. It wasn't pleasant. Donna went to pieces and ended up having to be sedated. And Jim just paced all night long. He couldn't sit still. The doctor came in about 5:00 and they checked him over again, but not much had changed. He still says that all they can do is wait."

"Does the seizure mean he's getting worse?" Jessie asked.

"Not necessarily," Estella replied. "I asked the doctor and he said that it could easily be a reaction to the swelling of the brain tissue. He's still hopeful . . . says that he's actually surprised by how little seizure activity there's been and he insists that it's a good sign."

In the distance, the phone began to ring. Kefira, who was closest to the door, rose saying, "I will get it."

"They have _no_ idea how long it might be before the family knows anything solid?" Benton questioned.

"No." It was Race that replied this time. "I talked with the doctor again this morning and they simply won't commit to any sort of timeline. I also asked him about the possibility of moving the boy here. Jim and Donna simply can't live in that hospital. They need to be able to come home where they can get some rest. If he doesn't need specialized care, like a neurologist or something, moving him to Penobscot Bay Medical Center seems to be a better idea than leaving him in a hospital three hours away. The doctor seemed receptive to that idea, but wanted to wait and see how he was doing by the end of the day . . . "

"Jessie . . . " They all looked up to see Kefira standing in the doorway. She pointed toward the hallway and Jessie rose and followed her out.

"I wonder who's on the phone," Jonny murmured softly, but Hadji just shrugged.

"I'm assuming you'll handle the transport?" Benton asked.

"Yeah. I put in a call to Barbara while we were still at Rumford and did a conference call with her and the doctor there. We've got things worked out so that if we can move him, we'll have the necessary medical personnel to take care of it. Barbara is going to take care of seeing to it that the Medical Center here has the bed and necessary equipment to monitor his condition. Other than that, there doesn't appear to be much we can do."

There was a long pause. Finally, Estella said, "Francesca called the hospital this morning."

Jonny's head snapped up sharply. "What did _she_ want?"

"To know how he was," Estella replied quietly. She shook her head. "I know that we've all said we don't trust her, and we shouldn't . . . but when I talked to her this morning . . . I would swear she was genuinely upset and worried about him. I also have to admit that I found myself wondering if maybe we _have_ misjudged her this time."

"Yes, I know what you mean," Race agreed. "I was getting the same feeling last night."

"No," Jonny said flatly.

Estella leaned forward and laid a hand on his arm. "Jonny, all of us have our weak points . . . areas that we can be blindsided from. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . Bobby Evans found Francesca's. Or maybe he came into her life at a time when her defenses were down and he really did get behind the walls she erects around herself. It happens." Jonny shook his head stubbornly. "You _know_ it can happen, Jonny," Estella insisted. "You did it yourself with Brandon Simmons."

"Yeah, but Brandon was a good kid to start with."

"And once upon a time, Francesca was too. Children aren't born evil, Jonny. They're shaped. And the man that shaped Francesca is gone now and she's alone. I can see where that might leave her vulnerable to someone like Bobby, who would trust her and honestly care what happens to her." Estella sighed at his fixed expression. "I'm not saying that's what's happened. And I'm certainly not saying that we should welcome her with open arms. I'm just saying that maybe we shouldn't be quite so quick to judge her. She deserves the chance to prove herself. As far as I'm concerned, loyalty to Bobby right now would go a long way toward doing that."

Everyone was silent for a long time, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Eventually, quiet, desultory conversation picked up again, but the entire atmosphere was subdued. Suddenly, Jonny glanced at his watch and frowned. "I wonder where Jess and Kefira got to. They've been gone a long time."

"I don't know," Benton replied. "Are they still on the phone?"

"Maybe I had better go see . . ." Jonny began, but at that instant both girls came back into the room. Neither said a word as they sat back down at the table.

Jessie stared down at her bowl blindly, the signs of strain obvious. She reached out for her spoon, but her hand shook so badly she couldn't pick it up. She doubled her hand over into a fist in an attempt to steady it. Abruptly, she stood and with a choked, "Excuse me," she fled the room.

"What???" Race said as Jonny shot to his feet. "Jonny, wait . . . Kefira, what's going on? Who was on the phone?"

Kefira rested her elbow on the table and lowered her head into her hand for a moment. Hadji put his arm around her and drew her close as she looked up again and replied, "Marla Dawson. She just found out about Bobby."

"Oh, man . . . " Jonny said and left the dining room at a trot.

"She was . . . extremely upset," Kefira said. "She was crying and talking compulsively about how they had fought the last time they had seen each other and how if he died, they could never work things out, and . . . "

"And completely without meaning to, Marla struck Jessie right where it hurt the worst," Estella said with a sigh.

"I don't understand . . . " Bennett said.

"You said you had heard about the episode with Jonny a couple of months ago," Race replied, watching Benton out of the corner of his eye. He saw the older man flinch slightly.

"Yes."

"Jessie and Jonny had been fighting as well," Race continued. "And before they were able to resolve anything, Jonny took the fall from the cliff out back and we all thought he was dead. Jess had a really bad time until he was found alive. Those memories are a little bit too fresh for her to cope easily with Marla's grief over Bobby. Maybe I should go . . ." 

Estella stopped him with a shake of her head. "No. The person she needs with her the most right now is Jonny. Just leave them alone for now."

It was about an hour later, when the couple reappeared once again. Jessie was smiling and joked pleasantly, but no one missed the fact that she clung to Jonny tightly as the couple joined the others in the family room. Everyone was there. Benton occupied his big reading chair near the picture windows, Hadji and Kefira sat nestled together on one end of the sofa while Admiral Bennett sat at the opposite end, Race knelt in front of the fire place, and Estella sat working at the computer. Jonny crossed the room and took the chair near his father, drawing Jessie down into the chair with him. Benton gazed at her in concern, but she smiled back at him reassuringly as she shifted to get more comfortable.

"I'm fine," she replied to his unspoken question. "Marla just shook me a little, that's all."

"So what now?" Jonny asked.

Benton sighed. "Well, as much as I hated to do it, I've shut down all outside access to the system. It leaves us crippled as far as research ability is concerned, but it also guarantees that no one can dial in and gain access.

"I thought Hadji and Kefira said the security access routines were clean," Bennett objected.

"As far as we are able to tell," Hadji replied. "The problem is that if there is some type of latent program in the system that would allow them to gain access, it does not necessarily need to be resident in the security programming. If it could be triggered in some way, then it could be anywhere in the system and we would have an extremely difficult time finding it. It is the main reason Father decided to shut down outside access."

Benton nodded. "It is highly unlikely that any program of that type would be set up on a time trigger. Surd would not have been able to control when it executed and that wouldn't have gained him anything. It would need to be something that he could trigger on demand."

"Are you sure you aren't just being paranoid, Dr. Quest?" Bennett asked skeptically. "Maybe there isn't anything there at all."

"Maybe there isn't," Benton replied grimly, "but it's a chance we don't dare take. Surd has used this kind of program before. He damned near killed Jessie and Jonny once by imbedding a latent trigger program in the gaming modules. It turned one of the game simulations into real-life combat with simulations of themselves. The two of them barely got out alive. I just can't believe that once he figured out how to use that technique, that he only used it once."

"Yeah," Race agreed. "Surd was always really predictable about stuff like that. If he found something that worked, he would use it over and over, in endless different ways, until you found a way to stop it for good."

Estella turned around from the computer screen and looked thoughtfully as the others. "You know, it occurs to me that suddenly, we've begun to worry a lot more about Jeremiah Surd than we have about the man behind all of this. What about this Baxter person? What do we know about him?"

Bennett shrugged helplessly. "On the surface, the man seems to be exactly what he claims to be . . . an international financier and recluse of the first order. Everything we have that appears to link him to anything shady is tenuous and open to interpretation. It's actually Leeds who's convinced that Baxter is behind it all."

"Does he have anything of substance?" Race queried.

Bennett shrugged. "He can make a good case if you ask him to, but it's all circumstantial and much of it is based on assumptions and leaps of faith. Yes, his logic holds together if you accept his basic assumptions, but there is absolutely no proof that those are correct."

"Like what?" Jonny asked. Once again, he felt that uneasy stirring of a memory trying to rise to the surface.

"Well, take the Halfaya Pass incident," Bennett said, shooting an apologetic look toward Race. Race's expression turned a bit grim, but he nodded silently. Seeing this, Estella rose from the computer and crossed to join him where he stood leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. A smile flickered as he put an arm around her and drew her close. He straightened and led her to a nearby loveseat where the two of them sat down. Once they were comfortable, they looked at him expectantly. Watching them, Bennett realized that Estella was not totally in the dark about this incident and he wondered just exactly how much Race had told his wife. "Leeds is convinced that operation was one of Baxter's. A vessel belonging to one of Baxter's corporations was docked in Bardiyah just over the Libyan border at the time of the incident, and from what we were able to determine, the attackers at Halfaya Pass escaped over the Libyan border and utterly vanished. Conveniently, the vessel departed within three hours of the attack. It's that sort of thing . . . lots of circumstantial evidence, but nothing that you can point to as incontrovertible proof."

Race frowned. "What about connecting people back to him?"

Bennett shook his head. "Nothing we've ever been able to find. Personal connections are equally tenuous. We've got people we can tie back to businesses that are part of his conglomerate, but all of them are low level. What's more, it's only some of the people involved . . . not everyone. There are a lot of people, including high-level dealers that we can't link to him in any way at all. And those we can tie to him in some way, don't lead back directly back to Baxter himself."

"Is it always weapons?" Estella asked. "I know you've said that he wants weapons, but surely that's not all he does. What you're talking about takes money, and a lot of it. Where does it come from?"

"Richard Baxter is a very wealthy man," Benton replied.

Estella shook her head. "That doesn't wash, Benton. I don't care how wealthy he is, he can't use _that_ money to fund gun deals for cutting edge weapons technology. He has to know he's being watched. It's not like he can write a check on his personal bank account to purchase a shipload of weapons to sell on the black market. The money he uses isn't coming from legitimate sources. If it was, he would have been identified solidly long before now. So where does it come from? Is he laundering money for a profit? Trafficking drugs? Selling blackmarket antiquities? What?"

Jonny gasped as though someone had struck him. He sat bolt upright in his chair as all of the color drained from his face and he turned an ashen gray. Estella's comment had opened a door in his mind and the memory that had been trying to surface for two days finally erupted into consciousness. As clearly as if he still crouched on that dirty rooftop in Cairo, he heard the cold voice of David Hamilton say, 

_"And if things don't cool off? What then? If you think Baxter is unhappy now, just imagine what he'll be like if we lose the merchandise to a raid."_

Locked into his own memories, Jonny looked around him and saw nothing but the darkness of that Cairo night. In the distance, hanging like a mockery of better times, was an almost full moon. He could smell the pungent odors of that Egyptian souk and felt the ripping pain of knowing that his own actions had killed the girl he loved. He felt the black obsession fill him again. Vengeance . . . nothing else mattered. Francesca had killed Jessie as surely as she if she had used her own two hands. And Jonny would make her pay dearly for that. He looked down carefully through that trap door, knowing that somehow he had to find a way inside . . .

"Jonny!?" Jessie said frantically. "Jonny, what's wrong???" She stared at him wildly, terror filling her. She had no idea what had happened. She'd never seen him like this before. He had literally stopped breathing. He was rigid, staring blankly into space. It was almost as though life itself had gone, leaving behind little more than a frozen statue. His face was bleak and lifeless, and he seemed to age from one instant to the next. The only color visible in his countenance was the slowly growing tinge of blue in his lips.

**"SHIT!"** Race exploded up out of his seat, crossing the room in a few long strides. He yanked his daughter up out of the chair by one arm and then grabbed Jonny by the shoulders and shook him violently. "Jonny!" he yelled. When this elicited no response, he jerked the young man forward and struck him sharply between the shoulder blades. "Breathe, damn you!" he swore at him. He shook him violently, again. "Jonny, listen to me! It's over! _**You aren't there any more!!**_ Can you hear me???"

Race was dimly aware of Jessie screaming and clawing at his arms, as well as the raised voices and movement of the others in the room, but he knew that he didn't dare let up. _**"JONNY!!!"**_ he screamed into the young man's face, staring directly into his eyes. For a split second, Race thought he saw awareness stir. Stepping back slightly, Race smacked him sharply across the face. Jonny's head snapped back and that flicker of awareness grew. "Breathe, damn you!" Race screamed at him again. _**"It's over! LET . . . IT . . . GO!!!!!"**_

And, suddenly, he was back. Color suffused his face, and he gasped, struggling to drag air into his oxygen-depleted system. Race stepped back and watched as Jonny went limp, collapsing into Jessie's arms. Jessie sobbed and repeated his name over and over, clutching the young man to her as he struggled to place himself in the present again.

"Take him upstairs, Jessica," Race said distantly from his position in the middle of the room. "In about 30 seconds, he's going to develop a splitting headache. He may even become nauseated. Lay him down and darken the room as much as you can. As soon as his stomach will tolerate it, give him three Tylenol and stay with him until he's better." Jonny suddenly doubled over and moaned, grasping his head frantically. "Go _now_." Race watched as Jessie struggled to get the young man to his feet and out of the room. Hadji and Kefira rose hastily, and together, the three of them got Jonny up the stairs.

For a long time, Race simply stood in the middle of the room, silent and unmoving, praying no one would say a word. He could feel his body trembling as the adrenaline that had surged into his system during the crisis, peaked. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Benton. The older man returned the gaze, looking shell-shocked.

"I-I used to do that . . . after . . . after Rachel died . . ."

The words, the look on the older man's face, and the reaction to the earlier situation all came together at once, and Race turned on him in sudden fury. "_Goddammit,_ Benton, why can't either one of you **EVER** let go of the past?!? You've spent years wallowing in guilt and self-pity over Rachel's death . . . never allowing yourself to get over it . . . and now . . . **NOW** . . . you've taught that boy to be exactly the same way! He's no more gotten past that business in Cairo than you have over Rachel's death, and you can see what it's capable of doing to him." With that, the fury and the last of the adrenaline in his system dissipated, leaving Race shaking and spent. "You can't bring her back, so what's the point?" he asked in an exhausted whisper. "How much longer can you let this go on?" He felt a hand on his arm and looked down to see Estella at his side. She put an arm around his waist and urged him toward the loveseat again. Numbly, he followed her and sank down to rest his head in his hands.

_Jonny's not the only one who could use some Tylenol,_ Race thought. Dimly, he was aware of Estella's arms circling him, and he wrapped his arms about her waist and buried his face against her body, grateful for her presence. He concentrated on the feel of her warmth and the scent of her perfume as he tried to force himself to relax. Eventually, he stirred and looked up at Benton. The older man still sat in exactly the same position, and the gaze that returned Race's was bleak, but aware.

"I'm sorry, Benton," Race said. "That was out of line. It's not my business to try to tell you how to deal with these things."

Slowly, Benton shook his head and replied, "No, old friend, you're right. I-I've got to learn to . . . " he swallowed convulsively, " . . . to let go . . . somehow. I just don't know how."

"Then find someone to help you," Race replied. "Find the strength to deal with this, so you can prove to your son it can be done, or he'll live with it for the rest of his life." Race looked at Benton for a moment longer and then asked, "Are you okay?"

Benton nodded wordlessly, clearly understanding the oblique question. Race sighed again and rose stiffly. "Then I'm gonna go get something for this headache. I'll be back in a few minutes. You sure you'll be okay?"

Benton nodded again. "Go on," he said. "I'll be fine. I'll just stay here with Admiral Bennett." As Race left the room, Benton looked at the red-headed woman who stood watching indecisively and said, "Estella, go with him, would you? Make sure _he's_ all right, as well? He'll never admit it, but this is as hard on him as it is on any of the rest of us." She nodded and ran after her husband.

Benton sighed deeply, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Bennett watched him for a moment before he said, "Rachel Quest was a remarkable woman, Doctor. I always regretted not having the opportunity to know her better."

"Yes, she was," Benton replied without moving. "She opened up a life for me that I wasn't even capable of dreaming about. When she died, it was as though my very reason for existence died with her. I . . . I didn't want to go on . . . didn't think I could. But then, sometimes, that's not our choice, is it?" The last statement had a decidedly bitter tone.

"No, it's not," Bennett replied quietly. There was silence between the two of them for a long time. Finally, he said, "And maybe that's the point. I remember something my father told me once, a long time ago. We were talking about children . . . my first was almost due to be born, and we were discussing how life would change for my wife and I." Benton raised his head and looked at the man in the chair across from him. "I remember he told me that all the rules change once you have a child . . . that what you had to accept was that what you want for yourself could no longer come before the needs of the child. He said that the child never asked to be born . . . that was your choice, and that once you made that choice, you were committed to everything that came after, no matter how good or how bad that might be. But he also told me something else. He said that, in the long run, the joy that you gain from that child far outweighs anything you have to sacrifice. Haven't you found that to be true . . . with both of your sons?"

"Yes," Benton agreed.

"Rachel Quest was a remarkable woman," Bennett repeated, "and she left you with the greatest and most long-lasting gift it is possible to give. She left you a part of herself . . . a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood part. You don't need ghosts, Dr. Quest. You've got something much better. In many ways, Jonny _is_ Rachel. I see it more and more every time I see him. He not only looks like her, but he thinks like her and he acts like her, and . . . " Bennett hesitated, and with a shrug, he finished, " . . . and I would say that he loves like her, as well. How long has the relationship between he and Jessie Bannon been going on?"

Benton smiled, the pain and bitterness seeming to recede as he talked about his son. "That depends on how you define 'going on', Admiral. Openly . . . consciously? A little over two years. But Hadji claims, and I believe him, that their bond was forged the day they met."

Bennett grinned suddenly. "It must have been. Jonny is living under the same roof as Race Bannon and dating his only daughter, and he's still alive. That says a great deal."

"What it says," Benton replied dryly, "is that my son has a well developed streak of self-preservation. I'm not naïve enough to assume that they aren't doing all the stuff normal teenagers do when we aren't looking. It's just that both of them are extremely cautious about what they do when there's a chance they might get caught."

Bennett laughed openly. "A wise precaution. And Mr. Singh's young lady seems a suitable match, as well."

"Yes, she does," Benton agreed. "I like Kefira a great deal, and Hadji is very fond of her."

"That's understating it, I think," Bennett replied. "But how about you? How do you feel about both of your sons being this deeply involved so young?"

Benton shrugged. "I'm coming to terms with it, I think. It hasn't been easy, I'll admit, but it's inevitable. I just kind of lost track of time and it came on me rather unexpectedly." Benton grinned faintly at the unspoken question he saw in Bennett's eyes. "How old are your kids, Admiral?"

"I have a son that's 29 and a daughter that's 26."

"And how old were they when you learned the lesson that every parent learns sooner or later? The one that goes, 'If you aren't ready for the answer, then don't ask the question.' "

Bennett chuckled ruefully. "Do we ever really learn that lesson? At least, well enough to apply it consistently? The first time I realized it was when my boy was about 16."

Benton nodded. "Jonny was 17. I made the mistake of asking him how he honestly felt about Jessie, and he told me . . . flat out, straight to the point, and without an instant's hesitation. And I discovered that _**I**_ wasn't ready to hear it. I tried to rationalize it. I told myself that it was only because he and Jessie were separated and fighting, but I knew." Benton sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "You said Jonny is a lot like Rachel . . . and you're right . . . he is. But in many ways, he's a lot like me, too. There's no way of knowing what the future will bring, but I know now that he will spend his life with Jessie . . . or he will be alone." Benton sighed. "It's the way we're built."

Bennett stared at his companion for a long time, thinking of the things that Race had told him several nights before. Finally, he shook his head slowly. "That's a pity, Dr. Quest, because I think that if Rachel could talk to you today, she would be very upset. The Rachel Quest I had the honor of knowing was a woman who loved life, and embraced it joyfully. She loved her husband and her son fiercely, and wanted only the very best for them. I think she would be extremely disappointed to find that you stopped growing as a person when she died. She would want you to be happy again, Doctor."

"I am happy," Benton replied, with a trace of pained defiance in his voice.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"No. I know," Benton finally replied.

"I'm not saying you should go out shopping for a relationship," Bennett said, "but I also don't think you should close yourself off to the idea, either. Just take it one day at a time and see what happens. You never know. Life might surprise you."

"But what if, in the process of doing that, I lose all the things that I got from Rachel in the first place? It's her memory that ties me to all of the good things I've ever had. If I were to lose those, too . . ."

"You won't."

Bennett replied with such conviction it caused Benton to stare at him in surprise. Then, with slowly dawning understanding, he asked, "How long has she been gone?"

Bennett smiled sadly, "Almost three years and a half years now."

"Did she die or were you divorced?"

"She died . . . ovarian cancer. It was diagnosed too late to be treatable. We were married for 32 years."

Benton shook his head. "I would give a great deal to have had the chance to be married to Rachel that long."

"You know, it really doesn't matter how _long_ you were married . . . what's important is what existed between you during that time. Caroline put up with the life of a military wife without a word of complaint. I know there were times when it was hard for her. We were always moving. She rarely had the opportunity to make friends outside of military personnel and even those she was constantly being separated from. She was always being stuck with trying to keep the kids grounded through all the turmoil and the stigma of being 'military brats'. But, you know, if she ever regretted the life I asked her to lead, she never let me know it. Through it all, she was the one that was the rock. I never realized how important that was to us until she wasn't there any longer. I won't lie and say her death wasn't hard . . . it was . . . and it took me some time to accept it. But eventually I came to realize that it was what we shared that was the most important of all. To dwell on the fact that I lost her too soon was to belittle her and everything we had together. I also came to realize that I would never, ever lose her, because she had left behind a part of herself that no one would ever be able to take away from me."

Benton nodded in acknowledgement. "Your children . . ."

"Exactly. Look to the present, Dr. Quest. Look to your sons and your future daughters-in-law and let go of your ghosts. Rachel would approve."

Benton leaned his head back and closed his eyes, allowing silence to fall between the two of them. Once again, his mind reached out toward those gray mists that swirled just outside of reality and almost immediately he felt Rachel near.

_Listen to him, Benton. He is right._

'I don't want to leave you,' he said silently to her. The mists churned and suddenly, for the first time since she died, he could see her. Even through the curling mists, he could see the sheen of her hair.

_What we shared will always be there, my love. It can never be taken from us._

'I can't go on without you,' he insisted. 'You are what gives me the strength to live.'

She smiled at him gently. _That is wrong, Benton. You cannot rely on the dead to give you a reason to live. Look at what it is doing . . . look at what allowing yourself to dwell in the past has done to our son._

Benton shuddered and looked away from the vision in his head, knowing the truth of those words. Suddenly, it was almost as though he could feel her physical presence. When he looked again, she stood within inches of him. No mists shrouded her now and she seemed to stand in an island of warm, golden light. Her crystal blue eyes were clear and her hair was a golden halo that dazzled him. In desperation, he said, 'You don't have to go. I can bring you back . . . change what happened. I have that power . . . '

_We have discussed this before, Benton, she said gently. Would you deny our son the girl he loves so much? Would you give up having Hadji as your son and miss seeing him grow into the fine young man he has become? Or allow Race Bannon to die a terrible death, in darkness and misery? Would you allow all of those things to happen to people you care about simply to give me back a life I was not destined to live?_

Finally, in a pained whisper, he replied, 'No.'

_Of course you wouldn't, she said softly. You are a good man, Benton . . . it is why I have loved you so much and why that love has transcended even death. It was your pain that drew me back right after I died. It was like a raging fire burning in the darkness with an intensity that called to me across the void. And being with you, even if it meant little more than hovering on the edge of existence, was enough. We were together. When your pain began to decrease and you learned to live again, I should have left, but by then I couldn't bring myself to go. And so I stayed . . . watching our son grow and coming to know the rest of the family you surrounded yourself with._ Benton saw her smile sadly. _I would have given much to have been there and to have been a part of it. Would it surprise you to find that I think of Hadji as my own, as well? Jonny may be the son of your body, but Hadji is the son of your mind. The two of you are so alike. How could I not think of him as my own, as well. And Race? No one could have a better friend. You are blessed by having these people, Benton. You have no need of me any longer._

'That's not true!' he replied fiercely. 'I do need you!'

The image of Rachel shook her head. _No, my love, you do not. I am little more now than a shadow . . . a reminder of what you have lost. When you remember me, you do not recall the good times . . . only the memory of that day in Palm Key. And I know that as long as I linger here, that memory will never die. When you come to me now, it is only in dark times. We no longer share happiness . . . only pain. Race is right . . . you must let go . . . must let **me** go. Look to the future, Benton. It is time._

'No,' he whispered.

_Yes,_ she replied with finality. _You must show our son the road out of darkness. I don't leave you alone, Benton. I leave you with the miracle the two of us wrought together. Jonny will always bind us, no matter what happens in the days to come. Whenever you have doubts or are lonely, think of him. It will be better for both of us. I am tired, my love. I have dwelt here in the shadows for long enough. Let me rest._

He could feel the tears welling up inside of him as that deep-seated core of grief rose, and he closed his eyes against the sight of her. 'I love you so much.'

_I know. I love you as well . . ._ Suddenly, he could have sworn he felt her lips brush his, and he opened his mind's eye to look at her again._ . . . and I will through all eternity. Never forget that._ She seemed to step back from him and suddenly that golden light was gone and the mist reached out to encircle her again. The grief washed over him as he watched her fade away for the last time. _Goodbye, my love._ And then she was gone.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to find himself back in the family room once again. Race and Hadji knelt to either side of him while Admiral Bennett, Estella and Kefira hovered behind them looking anxious.

"Benton? Benton, say something!" Race was saying urgently.

"Father!" Hadji called, one hand on his shoulder.

As he leaned his head back again, he felt the tears on his face and he knew that it was finished. He didn't try to stop them . . . rather, he let them wash away the last of the pain and grief inside him. _She's gone now,_ he thought, and realized that he truly accepted it for the first time. It really was over.

Finally, as his tears began to taper off, he said softly, "Goodbye, Rachel. Thank you for the time we shared . . . and thank you for our sons . . . " he opened his eyes and gazed into Hadji's eyes, then laid his hand over his son's. " . . . both of them." He raised his head and looked at the people with him. "I'm all right. For the first time in a very long time, I'm really all right." Taking both Race and Hadji's hands, he squeezed them briefly and then rose stiffly from the chair. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his face and blew his nose, and then said quietly, "I'm going to check on Jonny." He walked away without another word, leaving the rest of his family to wonder what threshold he had finally crossed. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


Jonny woke in a cold sweat, the memories of Cairo still echoing in his mind. He rolled onto his back and breathed deeply, trying to force those experiences out of his conscious mind once again. Slowly, they receded and he looked around him. He was in his own room. His surroundings were dim and the quiet was profound. _How did I get here?_ Jonny wondered in confusion. Suddenly, the episode in the family room returned to him and he winced. That hadn't been fun. What had gotten into him, anyway? But as he reviewed it in his mind again, other times . . . times of seeing his father react the same way to old memories . . . rose in his mind. He guessed he was more like his dad than he realized.

A small sound caused him to turn his head sharply and he saw Jessie curled up next to him on the bed. Her eyes were closed and she breathed evenly, but something told him that she wasn't sleeping that deeply. The swift way her eyes opened and the clear awareness in them when he touched her face in a feather-light caress proved him correct. He smiled at her and said softly, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," she replied, catching his hand and kissing it gently.

"I could get used to this, you know."

"Used to what?"

"Waking up to find you here in bed with me."

She smiled at him wistfully. "Yeah, I know. So could I. How do you feel?"

"Okay. A little disjointed maybe, but other than that . . ."

"Is your headache gone?"

"Yeah, thank God. Man, that was awful." He looked at her seriously. "I'm sorry I scared you. I don't know where that came from."

"It's okay, as long as you're alright."

Jonny reached out for her and she slid over to curl up against his side with her head nestled against his shoulder. They both shifted slightly, finding a comfortable position, and then lay entwined in companionable silence. Jonny was right on the edge of drifting off to sleep again when some sixth sense told him that there was someone else in the room. He opened his eyes to find his father standing beside the bed looking down at the two of them.

"You look quite comfortable," Benton observed dryly.

Jonny hesitated fractionally, trying to gauge his father's mood, and then grinned up at him impudently. "I am, actually."

"Hi, Dr. Quest," Jessie added.

"Your father said to keep an eye on him, Jessie, but I'm not sure this is exactly what he had in mind."

"I do things in my own way," Jessie replied with a glint in her eye.

A smile played on Benton's face briefly. "I should disapprove."

"But you don't?" Jonny asked hopefully.

"I didn't say that."

Jonny sighed. "It's our choice, you know."

"You're too . . . " Benton began, but Jonny interrupted him sharply.

"Don't say it! We are not kids any longer. We're old enough to make our own decisions."

Benton sighed. "Now is not the time to argue about this." He sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "How do you feel?"

"I'm okay, Dad . . . really."

"Then you both should come back downstairs so we can continue our earlier conversation."

"We'll be right down," Jonny replied.

After hesitating briefly, Benton nodded and rose from the bed. "We'll be waiting."

The young couple watched him leave the room, before sitting up on the bed. As Jonny swung his legs over the edge, he asked, "How hard do you suppose that was for him?"

"Hard enough that I don't think we should keep him waiting," was Jessie's immediate reply. "How's your head?"

"Fine. Come on . . . let's go."

They entered the family room on Benton's heels and found everyone else already waiting. Bennett still occupied one end of the sofa, but Race and Estella now sat on the other end. Hadji and Kefira had shifted to one of the large reading chairs. Jonny chose the matching reading chair next to Hadji and Jessie perched on the arm of it right next to him.

"I'm sorry about that," Jonny apologized to everyone. "I really don't know where that came from."

"I do," Benton said grimly as he paced restlessly, "and we'll talk about it more later. The important thing now is for you to tell us what it was that struck you."

"It had to do with Cairo." Race said flatly.

Jonny looked at him. "How did you know that?"

"Because Cairo is the only thing you have ever fixated on like this . . . and it's the only thing you've ever refused to talk about," Race replied. "What happened there is eating you alive and now it's manifesting itself in episodes like the one you just had."

"What happened in Cairo?" Bennett asked. "You all keep referring to it, but I have no idea what that means."

"Baxter almost killed Jessie," Jonny said in a low tone, as though reluctant to access those memories again.

"You said that was Keller," Race reminded him. "You told us that much right after it happened."

Jonny nodded with difficulty. "I know. He was the one that . . . that hurt her . . . "

"Shhh," Jessie said softly, touching his face gently. She caught his head and pulled him toward her to hold him close. He leaned against her and she stroked his hair gently. "It's okay. It's over . . . It wasn't your fault." 

Benton came over and crouched down beside Jonny. Laying his hand on his son's leg, he said gently, "I know this isn't easy, son, but it's very important that we know what it is that makes you think the episode in Cairo was one of Baxter's operations."

Everyone in the room could see the young man shudder. Jessie pulled him more tightly against her and then leaned down and laid her cheek against the top of his head. "It's alright, Jonny . . . you don't have to do this right now if you don't feel up to it."

For the first time, the ghost of a smile shone on his face. He pulled away from her and leaned his head against the back of the chair. Catching her hand in his, he squeezed it gently and replied, "Yes, I do, love. Dad's right, we need to know what we're dealing with and if I have any information that can help, then the rest of you need it, too." He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "I'm alright. It's just that . . . sometimes . . . the memories . . . of that night . . . come back so strongly." Jessie shifted, sliding down into the chair beside him. He gathered her into his arms and the two held each other briefly before Jonny looked up at Race and his father and began, "I was on the roof of Hassan's shop. The day Jessie was . . . " he paused again, swallowing hard. " . . . attacked . . . we had been in that shop and had spotted some questionable artifacts. Some of the things we saw and the way people reacted to us made us suspicious. We had searched and found what we thought was a back way in . . . from an alley farther down the street. When Jessie . . . in the hospital . . . after she . . . " He stopped and Jessie stirred in his arms. She raised her head slightly and, ignoring the pain it must have caused her, rubbed her bruised cheek against his, breathing something softly into his ear. He stroked her hair and stumbled on. "I-I left the hospital and made my way back to that alley. While I was climbing to the roof, David Hamilton showed up."

Benton's sharply indrawn breath was clearly audible in the silence. "Surely he didn't . . ."

"No," Jonny said. "He didn't know I was there. It was dark as pitch and he was more interested in killing the two guys he had caught stealing from him."

"Jesus," Race said softly. Jonny had never talked about that night, no matter how much they had coaxed him to do so, so this was the first time they had heard any of this.

"I was hanging from a drain pipe just below the roof. He came up on the two guys and threw them off." Jonny swallowed convulsively again. "I heard them hit the ground . . . " he whispered, ". . . and I didn't care. I didn't even consider going to see if there was anything I could do for them. All I could think was that I had found one of the people I was looking for."

Bennett sat back, watching these people and remembering Race's comments of the night before. Yes, this young man still had a lot of unresolved issues over this affair. Hearing them discuss this, Bennett came to realize that he did know of this episode, but this certainly wasn't the way the official report read. Bennett knew that Race had been well-liked at the agency and that there had been many people sorry to see him go when he quit. But he found it interesting that Race's links with I-1 were still strong enough that other agents were willing to falsify reports for him. That was a situation that he needed to look into. But there was one thing he did know that might make the young man feel a bit better . . .

"I do know something about this incident, after all, and if it's any consolation, Mr. Quest, nothing you might have tried would have helped. They were both dead before they ever hit the ground. Their throats were cut before they were tossed over."

Jonny sighed deeply and hung his head. After a long time, he continued in a low voice. "I got up on the roof and followed Hamilton back to the shop. They were both there . . . Hamilton and Keller. I heard them arguing . . . about the set up . . . about packing up and getting out because Dad was there . . . and about how Hamilton had blown it when he didn't get Dad's molecular spectrographic analyzer the way Baxter had told him to. They talked about how pissed Baxter was going to be if they lost the merchandise because they had to clear out. Keller was ragging on Hamilton . . . saying it was all Francesca's fault . . . that she'd become unreliable because she'd fallen for me. Hamilton was pissed and asked him what he thought Race would do when he found out that it was Keller that had . . . had . . ." Jonny stopped, his eyes taking on that haunted look again.

"What did he say, son?" Benton pushed him gently. He hated forcing Jonny to live through this again, but Benton knew it was better if he could get it out into the open. "Tell me."

Jonny licked his lips and focused on his father's face. Suddenly, he closed his eyes tightly, as though trying to block out something that only he could see. "I can't . . . " he whispered.

Jessie tightened her hold on the young man and turned a furious glare on Benton. "Leave him alone!" she snarled. "He's been through enough!"

Benton sighed and hung his head briefly. Then he looked back up at the young couple. "Yes, Jessie, he has, and that's why it has to stop. Your father accused me of deliberately holding onto the past, and he was right. He also told me that I had taught my son to do the same thing, and it appears he was right about that, too. The only way to release the past is to face it head on, accept that it happened and then move on. And to do that, Jonny, you have to be willing to talk about it. Bottling it up inside you only lets it fester." Benton smiled bitterly. "Believe me, I know. So I need for you to tell me the rest of it, son. You've come this far. Let the rest of it go, as well. Only then will you start to heal."

Finally, Jonny took a breath and tried again. "Hamilton said . . . said that he . . . wondered how Race would take it when he . . . he found out it was . . . Keller that had . . . hurt . . . Jess." He closed his eyes as if in pain. "That Keller had 'beaten his daughter into a bloody pulp' was what he said. And . . . all I could think about was . . . kneeling on the top of that pyramid with Jess lying there . . . seeing all of the blood . . . and . . . and hearing her fighting to breathe . . . knowing that she was dying . . . and knowing that her being there was all my fault and that there was nothing I could do to stop it." Jonny's face was stark white and his eyes had gone dark. He gazed inward at the scene in his own mind, seemingly unaware of the others in the room any longer. "And it was more than wanting him dead . . . I wanted to do to him what he had done to Jess . . . to use my fists and _hurt him._ The feeling was so strong . . . and . . . and then . . . Francesca walked in and I saw her . . . and I decided . . . and then they moved away from the entrance to the roof and I went in after all of them."

The only sound that broke the resulting silence was the soft sigh of air as the blowers for the furnace kicked on.

"I-I had never wanted to do violence like that before," Jonny finally whispered. "Not really. But after that . . . nothing could have stopped me going into that shop."

"It was a stupid thing to do, son," Bennett said to him gently, sitting forward on the sofa. "You never go into a place like that without backup. I'm sure Race taught you that. You walk into something like that and you may never walk out again."

Jonny turned his head and looked at the man. Finally, he replied in a curiously flat voice, "But Admiral, I knew that. I went in to get rid of the people who killed Jessie. I was clear-headed enough . . . not rational, I don't think . . . but I knew the odds. I knew I had little or no chance of getting out, but that was okay, because right then I didn't _want_ to come out." Jessie's incoherent sound of pain was clear in the subsequent silence and they all saw Benton Quest shudder in sympathy. "It all happened because of Francesca, and I can't begin to describe how much I hate her."

"Then she wins, Jonny." Benton's voice was steady, but the pain in his eyes was clear to all of them, as he raised his head to look at his son again. "Hatred never destroys the person it's directed against . . . only the one who allows it to fester inside of him. For years, I hated the young man who killed your mother. It took me a long time to accept that it wasn't his fault . . . it truly was an accident. But do you know what the hardest realization of all was?" Jonny shook his head, listening intently to his father. "That on that day, I was going to lose one of you, no matter what anyone did. It's true that if that young soldier hadn't fired at the terrorist, Rachel would still be alive . . . but you would be dead instead . . . and everything that I have today wouldn't exist. Don't hang onto the hatred, Jonny. If there's anything that I've learned since your mother died, it's that the only people who suffer for allowing hatred to fester is **you** and those who care about you."

"How do I do that, Dad?" Jonny asked.

Benton sighed. "By finally facing what happened and accepting that it's over. There is nothing you can do to change it. Then, look around you and be thankful for what you _do_ have." Benton reached out and stroked Jessie's hair gently. "You didn't lose the girl you care so much about on that day and, in the end, that's all that's important."

"No," Race disagreed, speaking up for the first time. "There's something else." He rose and moved to stand directly in front of Jonny and his daughter. "I think you're carrying around a load of guilt for the way you reacted that night. You discovered that there is part of you that is capable of wanting revenge . . . and wanting it badly enough that it overpowers rationality. Even worse, to realize that not only did you want it, but that you were capable of exacting it. For a truly good person, it's never easy to realize that you have that kind of power." Race shook his head and sighed. "Jonny, the desire for revenge is one of those things that's deeply rooted in the dark side of all of our souls. It's part of the primitive side of us . . . going back to prehistoric times when retaliation and violence were what kept us alive. But I want you to remember something. You were faced with a choice that day. You held that gun to Francesca Hamilton's head and you could have pulled the trigger. We couldn't have stopped you. But you didn't . . . you walked away. You made a conscious choice between darkness and light . . . and you chose the right path. There's no reason to feel guilty."

Jonny thought about that for a long time. Then, looking up at Race, he asked, "But what if Jessie really had died? What would have happened then? Would I have made the same choice? That's what I don't know . . . and what scares me still."

Race shook his head. "'What if's serve no good purpose, son. No one ever really knows what they will do in a given situation until they actually have to face it. You faced your test . . . and in my opinion, the true nature of who you are as a person surfaced. You walked away without hurting anyone, and that's the only thing you should take away from that experience."

With a final squeeze of his shoulder, Benton rose and walked over to sit down on the love seat, while Race returned to Estella. Everyone was quiet for a long time, wrapped up in their own thoughts.

It was Kefira who finally broke the silence. She cleared her throat hesitantly and said, "Perhaps it is not my place to suggest anything . . . "

"I want to hear everyone's thoughts," Benton replied with an encouraging look, when she trailed off uncertainly.

Kefira nodded and continued, "I believe it is clear, now, that Dr. Surd did not offer the solutions to Mr. Baxter's problems, and that we are now his target. The first attack was against Dr. Quest's security . . . if Race could be eliminated, then they felt the security here would have been easier to breach."

"That's not true," Race objected. "The security is not dependent on my being here any longer."

"Yes, but they do not have any reason to know that," Hadji pointed out. "To outsiders, you still appear to be little more than a bodyguard, Race. It is an appearance you have deliberately cultivated over the years. Very few people know that you are much more than that, now."

Race grinned, looking slightly embarrassed. "Subterfuge is a lesson that's hard to forget once you've learned it."

"Then why try for Jessie and Kefira?" Bennett objected. "Why not go directly for Dr. Quest?"

"Opportunism," Jessie replied promptly. "Julia's smart, and she knows what went on in QuestWorld the day that I took Surd out. She and Lorenzo have also assaulted this Compound before, and they know what they're up against. I don't see her trying a direct, frontal attack unless there's simply no other choice. But Kefira and I were outside the Compound and apparently defenseless. I'd be willing to bet that whoever they had planted here reported that the two of us were in Camden, seemingly alone, and they took advantage of it to try to lay their hands on me. They probably figured that I could get into QuestWorld and could free Surd for them."

"All right, I'll buy that," Benton agreed. Then he looked at Kefira closely. "But there's something else, isn't there?"

"Yes." Kefira turned and looked at Hadji. "I am thinking about what you told me of the design of the security for QuestWorld and how it is so deeply pervasive within the system." Hadji nodded. "I am guessing that it is a virus . . . a deliberately introduced virus with custom-designed checks on it. And when the checks are disrupted, the virus is released, the system becomes infected, and the entire thing is destroyed."

Hadji smiled at her. "Yes, essentially that is how it works. As long as the system remains stable and no one tries to download anything, the safeguards keep the virus contained. It is only when someone gets through all of the other security safeguards and tries to download something that it is released."

"Do you think you could modify that virus so that it could be transported?" Kefira asked.

Hadji frowned thoughtfully. "Possibly. One of the basic safeguards of QuestWorld is that the code is simply not downloadable . . . even by one of us. It requires direct unit-to-unit connection using a cable and special interface software to be able to load even the most rudimentary access modules onto another computer. But it might be possible to alter the code sufficiently to allow the virus itself to download."

"Oh, you're good," Jessie said with a grin, immediately seeing where the other girl was heading.

"What are the two of you thinking?" Benton demanded.

"We have been lucky, so far, Dr. Quest." Kefira answered, looking at him soberly. "None of us have been hurt in these attacks. But I do not think that we can expect our luck to continue. If what Admiral Bennett has said about this man is true, he has extensive resources that he can turn against us. Sooner or later, one of us will be caught or killed. And I do not believe any of us want you to be put into the position of having to choose between our lives and the welfare of the rest of the world."

"No, we don't," Jonny agreed gravely. "We've been defensive long enough. It's time to do something about this mess. What's your idea, Kefira?"

"We have two goals, I think. The first is to see that the weapon that Mr. Baxter now holds is totally destroyed. And the second is to see to it that Mr. Baxter poses no continuing threat to Dr. Quest or any other member of our family." Kefira didn't seem to notice her unconscious use of the possessive, but Hadji caught it immediately and smiled happily. Watching his response, the others smiled as well. "For the plan to work, three things need to be possible. First, the QuestWorld virus must be modified so it can be transported discretely without being detected. Second, it must be modified so that once it has run it's course and has done the necessary damage, it will burn itself out leaving no trace of the original code. And finally, we must be certain that once it is unleashed it will not spread beyond the targeted system. If these things can be accomplished, then I would suggest that we open the system back up and invite invasion."

"What!?" Bennett yelped. "You must be joking! We can't risk letting Baxter have access to QuestWorld."

Kefira turned and looked at the military man steadily. "If I understand what Hadji has told me of this system, allowing Baxter or anyone else in is not a risk in itself. They will not be able to download any of the code. The virus will completely destroy it before permitting anyone to do that. The concern is the damage they can do from within the system. But from what I have heard, the only one with the skill to have been able to program for QuestWorld was Dr. Surd. As long as we can keep him safely trapped, then we probably do not have to worry about anyone planting programs in it either . . . at least not in the kind of hit and run attack that is likely. I think our biggest concern will be whether there is a latent program within QuestWorld that Julia will be able to trigger, because someone will have to meet the invaders in QuestWorld and engage them."

"Why?" Bennett demanded angrily. "What can you possibly hope to gain?"

"Infection," Jessie said confidently. Then she looked at the other young woman. "That's it, isn't it? You're planning on tagging Hadji's modified virus onto whoever enters the system so they can carry it back to home base with them."

"Yes. Or onto something they will willingly take back with them."

"A fake Jeremiah Surd persona?" Jonny suggested, but Jessie promptly shook her head.

"Too dangerous, and too likely to be spotted. Julia knew Surd too well."

"How about a test scenario on the weapon system?" Benton asked thoughtfully. "It wouldn't even need to be faked. A series of tests that show the problems inherent in the weapon might even prove useful in diverting Baxter from the idea of using interactive VR in this way."

"That would be perfect," Kefira agreed immediately.

"It's too risky," Bennett disagreed sharply. "Not only do you open it up to invasion, but then you show Baxter the potential of QuestWorld and increase your own desirability as a target."

"Which would draw him here," Estella pointed out. "That means we wouldn't have to find him . . . he'd come to us. There's merit in that, because it gives us the opportunity to control the situation and puts the fight on ground we are familiar with."

Bennett turned to Race in desperation. "Race, talk to them! You know this doesn't make sense. There's acceptable risk and then there's just plain crazy. This is just plain crazy!"

Race looked thoughtful, then finally shook his head. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but I have to agree with them. We can't huddle here behind Compound defenses indefinitely, and if we've got to meet them head on, I'd say it's better to do it at a time of our own choosing and on familiar ground rather than vice versa. I'd say the big question hinges on whether or not Hadji can modify his virus program to accomplish what we need it to do."

"Yes, and it is _**very**_ important that it be utterly self-destructive," Kefira pointed out. "We do not want to risk the virus being contained intact so that someone has it available to analyze. That would greatly increase the threat to QuestWorld."

Hadji nodded decisively and rose. "I will go out to the lab and get started, then." Turning, he looked at his brother. "I could use your help, Jonny. Much of the development work on the original virus was done by the two of us together, and I believe this would go faster with your help."

"You got it. Let's go."

"I'll start putting the weapon system analysis together," Benton added. "That's already started and it shouldn't take me too long to finish it. How about you two?" he asked, looking to Jessie and Kefira.

"I think it's time that I do something I haven't done in a couple of weeks," Jessie replied. "Jonny and Hadji will be working in the lab and can serve as monitors, so I'm gonna go into QuestWorld and check on Surd." She looked over at Kefira and grinned. "Wanna come along for the ride?"

Kefira grinned. "Yes, thank you. I was afraid I was going to have to invite myself." Jessie just laughed.

Bennett hesitated for an instant and then asked, "May I join you?"

The room turned silent abruptly, and everyone looked to Benton. For a long time, Benton didn't reply. Then, with a sigh, he said, "IRIS, please update Admiral Bennett's profile to allow for access to level 1 security areas. He is to be allowed into these areas only when accompanied by an authorized member of the family. At any sign of coercion or threat, his access is to be immediately terminated, and he is to be considered a hostile entity to be eliminated."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WORKING," IRIS replied. After a few seconds, she said, "UPDATE COMPLETE."

"I have my doubts about doing this, Admiral," Benton warned him. "So tread carefully and do **NOT** try and take advantage of the situation. Also, I want you to understand that this is _not_ permanent. I will change this access after you've had a chance to see the system firsthand." Then he looked at Jessie and Kefira. "I'll let you be the judge of whether to take him inside or make him sit outside with Jonny and Hadji to watch. Just keep an eye on him, all of you, and don't let him get into trouble." They all nodded and the five of them left for the lab, leaving Race, Estella and Benton standing in the family room.

"Was that a wise idea, Benton?" Race asked, looking troubled. "Bennett's a good man, but he's still a high ranking government official and when his loyalties are tested, I'm not sure I'd want to rely on which side he'd take."

"Perhaps not, but you have to remember just how overwhelmingly impressive QuestWorld is on first sight. Bennett is a smart man. I'm gambling that he's smart enough to look around him and see how dangerous this would be in the hands of the government, and that that will be enough to keep him quiet about everything he's seen here."

"I hope you're right."

"So do I, Race, believe me. What are you two going to do now that all the rest of us have jobs?"

Race grimaced. "As Jonny reminded me earlier, I'm up for dinner detail. Considering it's now well after five, I suppose I should start thinking about it." He looked over at Estella and asked hopefully, "You want to help?"

She grinned back at him. "I wouldn't miss seeing you fumble around in the kitchen for anything." Then her grin faded and she added, "But first, I need to call Jim and Donna and make sure they're doing okay and get an update on Bobby's condition."

Race nodded. "Why don't you use the phone in the kitchen so I can listen in?"

"Well, then, it looks like we all have our assignments," Benton said decisively. "Let's get started." 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


** Camden Harbor**

Darkness was gathering rapidly as Francesca Hamilton made her way cautiously down the sidewalk that ran along one side of the Camden Deli. Nearby, the cheerful chattering of the waterfall that lead down into Camden harbor did little more than make her wish she was back at the Conners residence in bed. She was not entirely sure how she had managed to get up and out of the house, but somehow she had accomplished it. She was still grateful that prior obligations had ensured that the house was empty when she needed to leave. And if all went well, it would still be empty when she got back. The pain in her body was a constant, gnawing ache that left her drained and depressed, and she missed her father desperately. _My life seriously sucks,_ she decided grimly.

Gazing down toward the harbor, she spotted Leeds sitting on a bench watching the ships bobbing at anchor in the marina. She noted that even with the weather being as bad at it had been recently, the harbor had not frozen. _A plus for some of the fishermen,_ she thought randomly, and that cynical little voice inside questioned why she even bothered to consider those people. Gazing at the back of the man's head, she wished that she could have beaten him to the rendezvous. It would have been better if he hadn't seen her in a moment of weakness, but there wasn't much she could do about it now. Moving slowly, with a decided limp, she made her way down to the waiting man. Coming up behind him, she slid onto the bench as gracefully as she could.

"It's about time!" he said irritably. "You're late."

"Tough," she replied shortly. "You're not important enough to jeopardize my cover for."

"I'm a lot more important than you realize," Leeds replied hotly.

"Oh, spare me!" Francesca answered testily. "You're a government agent in a sea of others who hopes to get himself noticed by pulling off a coup and blowing one of the international crime syndicates wide open. If I could count the number of times I've seen people like you, I'd be wealthy enough never to have to worry about working again!"

With an effort, Leeds controlled his temper and said, "Well, what do you have?"

Negligently, Francesca tossed the envelope from Baxter at him. "You need to see that this gets done."

"What is it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Instructions," she replied shortly. "From Baxter. And if you want him, you'll see that they come off exactly the way he outlines there."

Leeds had opened the envelope and was rapidly scanning the contents. "You expect me to compromise the Quest's security and allow those murderous leeches inside?" Leeds asked incredulously. "You must be crazy!"

"If you want him, that's what you're going to do," Francesca replied coldly. After a minute, she continued to elaborate in a tone of one explaining a simple situation to an idiot. "You need to draw him out into the open. Nothing is going to be able to do that right now, short of offering him exactly what he wants. And what he wants is Benton Quest and whatever he has inside that Compound. So if you want him, you're going to blow Quest's security wide open and give Baxter's men the chance to attack it. This will draw Baxter out where you can get your hands on him. The rest is up to you."

"Where did you get this?" Leeds demanded.

"Baxter gave it to me."

"When???!?"

"Early this morning," Francesca replied.

"Why didn't you call me?" he demanded hotly. "We could have taken him when he gave this to you and it could have all been over!"

"Yeah, right," she replied sarcastically. "You could have gone up against them all by yourself, Mr. I'm-All-On-My-Own-And-Out-On-A-Limb-Boy. He wasn't alone, for God's sake! He had a bunch of people with him. Plus, I was out all day and didn't get the message until late. There was no way to reach you and set up anything. So I went on my own and established my credibility with him. I got the stuff, which is the important part. All you have to do is make sure those codes are inputted into the Quest's system and then wait. When Baxter makes his move, you can trace his location and drop on him. He won't expect you, since he'll be focusing all of his attention on Quest. You get him and he's off of my back. Period. End of story."

"You're an opportunistic little bitch, aren't you? You don't give a damn who gets hurt."

Francesca eyed Leeds coldly. "Look who's talking! Yeah, I look out for number one, Leeds. I figure that if I don't, someone will take advantage and use me for all they're worth. Let's face it. It's exactly what you're doing, isn't it?"

She could see something flicker briefly behind his eyes before they went flat and cold. "I got you out of that hellhole didn't I? I don't think you came out of that deal so badly."

"Of course you don't," she replied sourly. "And I'm sure you did it out of the generosity of your own heart. You didn't give any thought at all to the idea of what I might do for you in return, now did you?"

"Fair's fair."

"Well, if we're going to talk about fair, then let's talk about my father, shall we? Our deal was very clear . . . you get _both_ of us out of Egypt and I'd give you Baxter. So where is my father, Leeds?" She flicked her hand at the packet of instructions he still held. "I've given you the vehicle to accomplish what you want. When are you going to produce my father?"

"I'm working on it," he replied, obviously irritated at her insistence. "It's going to take a couple more days. You're just going to have to be patient."

"My patience is wearing really thin. I've been hearing the same thing from you ever since you planted me in this dismal backwater and I'm getting sick of it. You have until the confrontation with Baxter. If you haven't produced him by that time, I'll see to it you regret it. That's a promise, Leeds."

"And just what do you think you're going to do?" Leeds said jeeringly.

Francesca smiled coldly. "Look around, you smug bastard. Camden and Rockport are small, rural communities. Do you know what that means? It means they have little or nothing to do other than watch their neighbors. We've met three times since you planted me here. Do you really believe that no one has noticed us? Look over your shoulder and count the number of people on the back patio of the deli behind us who have been staring at us, wondering who we are and what we're doing. You give me a reason, and I'll see to it that the Admiral that's staying with Quest knows that a government intelligence agent is running a rogue operation right under his nose. How do you suppose that will be received?"

The expression on Leeds face turned ugly and he caught Francesca's wrist in a punishing grip. "Watch yourself, Hamilton. You aren't indispensable and accidents can happen to the best of us."

Francesca rose from the bench, trying to pull her arm free from his grasp. When he refused to release her, she turned to face him, allowing the light from the pole lamp that sat right next to the bench to fall full across her face for the first time. Leeds suddenly realized that while they sat there, darkness had fallen and they were now spotlighted like actors on a brightly-lit stage. Francesca raised her head and gazed back toward the street, then lifted her free arm and waved to a group of people on the sidewalk near the entrance to the harborside park. "Merry Christmas!" she called brightly to them, and they all waved back and returned the greeting cheerfully. Leeds dropped her arm with a soft oath. She looked back down at him, the cheerful smile still firmly fixed on her face, but her words were cold and harsh. "One way or the other, you get those codes into Quest's computers by tomorrow afternoon at 3:00. I'll tell Baxter to expect the systems to be vulnerable by then." Then she turned to go. Her movements were stiff and slow, and the sharp pain in her legs caused her to stumble. If Leeds had not leaned forward abruptly and steadied her, she would have fallen.

"What happened to you?" he demanded, realizing for the first time that she was hurt.

Francesca leaned heavily against the back of the bench, gritting her teeth as she waited for the pain to subside again. Tears of pain and frustration welled up in her, but she fought them down ruthlessly. "None of your business," she replied harshly. "All you need to worry about are those codes, and getting my father here by the time this whole business is over." Then she shoved herself upright again and moved away into the darkness. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


**

Lighthouse Laboratory  
Quest Compound

**

"No, Admiral, you cannot go into QuestWorld! Not yet . . ."

Jessie faced Admiral Bennett squarely, refusing to be intimidated by his fierce scowl. At a nearby console, Jonny and Hadji sat, watching the confrontation with amused grins. Kefira was already settled into one of the support chairs, visual headgear in place, waiting for Jessie to join her.

"Dr. Quest said I could enter QuestWorld," Bennett insisted.

"Dr. Quest said that it was my choice if you entered QuestWorld," Jessie corrected him. "He also said I was to keep you out of trouble. While I'm almost positive that Surd is still safely locked up, I'm not going to let you into the system until I'm 100% certain of it. It's also been about a week since any of us have gone inside, and I want to be sure that nothing latent has kicked up in that time. Kefira and I will go in and check on Surd. If everything seems quiet you can join us later."

"Furthermore, Admiral, you'll be able to watch what's going on," Jonny offered. Waving at the large blank wall behind Kefira, he said, "That wall's actually a large video monitor, which can display the activity going on inside QuestWorld. It will give you an idea of what to expect before you actually enter the simulation."

Jessie pointed to a chair not far from the two young men. "You sit down over there and watch for a while. If, after we get done, you still want to try it, then you can join us. Fair enough?"

Reluctantly, Bennett nodded and moved over to the chair and sat down. Jessie donned the headset and took the chair next to Kefira, as Hadji turned back to the computer console and said, "IRIS, activate QuestWorld, please."

"ACKNOWLEDGED," IRIS replied. "SIMULATION ENVIRONMENT IS NOW ACTIVATED AND READY."

"Run security diagnostics and report any activity during the last week."

Everyone was quiet as IRIS ran the requested diagnostics. Finally, she replied, "NO ACTIVITY HAS BEEN RECORDED IN THE SYSTEM IN THE LAST SEVEN CALENDAR DAYS. SECURITY REMAINS INTACT."

"Okay, here we go," Jessie said. She looked over at Kefira. "You all set?"

Kefira grinned in anticipation. "Yes!"

Jessie nodded to Hadji who turned back to his console and began typing. "QuestWorld logon . . . subjects Jessie Bannon and Kefira Subramanian. Going hot in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1!" The headsets suddenly flared to life and a brilliant green band of light appeared across the eyes of both women. At the same time, the video monitor on the wall flickered to life and the screen filled with lines of lime green on a black background. The lines began to move and a tunnel formed. There was a sense of spiraling down that tunnel, rapidly gaining speed. Bennett was reminded of the simulations he had seen of the effects of black holes on the universe. For an instant he felt as though he was being sucked into that long tunnel, and then the world on the monitor steadied and formed into something vaguely recognizable.

Jessie and Kefira looked around them. They stood in the middle of what appeared to be a three dimensional room where all of the surfaces were lime green on black grid.

"An interesting choice for room décor," Kefira observed dryly.

Jessie grinned back at her. "This is just a vectorized 'place' . . . a gateway, if you will. This is where you arrive in the simulation if you didn't activate a specific program before entering." Jessie looked the other girl over thoughtfully. Their vectorized images appeared much the same . . . both of them were in tight, formfitting suits of black and silver gray with brilliant accents of color. But where Jessie's accents were pink, Kefira's were blue. "Interesting," Jessie said.

"What?" Kefira asked, looking down at herself. Then she looked back up at Jessie and said hesitantly, "It doesn't leave much to the imagination . . . "

"Personally, I've always liked that aspect of QuestWorld," they heard Jonny's voice comment.

"I cannot say that I have noticed it up to now, but I believe that I must agree," was Hadji's reply and both girls heard Bennett chuckle.

"Oh, yeah, right," Jonny replied. "I'll bet you've never noticed it before."

"Considering that Jessie is the only woman who is regularly in QuestWorld, you really do not expect me to say that I had, do you?"

"Good point," Jonny agreed with a laugh.

"It's because the program vectorizes the body structure but not the clothes you're wearing," Jessie explained.

"How does it do that?" Kefira asked, fascinated.

"There are sensors in the chairs we were sitting in," Jessie replied. "The first time you enter the program, the sensors 'read' your body structure and the program creates a corresponding image. It also stores that image, so that if you are using a remote link and you aren't in the chair, you will still appear like yourself once you enter. You'll find that the image of clothing will be identical for everyone in the program . . . we all look to be wearing the same thing, except that the color accents change."

"Well, I like the one you picked for me. It's my favorite color."

Jessie shook her head. "That's what I mean about 'interesting'. None of us chose that color for you. It's the one IRIS came up with when she created your form. We've even tried to change ours, but we can't." She looked down at her pink trimmed outfit, and said, "Believe me, I've tried. It must have something to do with the way the program reads us, but we can't figure out what it is. Some of us always wear the same color and for others, the color changes every time we enter the program. What's interesting is that the only one who's ever come up in that particular shade of blue is Hadji." Jessie grinned at her. "Now what do you suppose that says?" Kefira just grinned back at her without answering.

"Well, we might as well get this over with," Jessie said, turning business-like. "IRIS, load program 'Thoughtscape', please." She glanced over at her companion. "This will be a wild ride," she warned Kefira. "So hang on and follow me."

"PROGRAM 'THOUGHTSCAPE' IS PROTECTED. RETINAL SCANS HAVE CONFIRMED IDENTITY OF INITIATOR. PLEASE PROVIDE PASSWORD NOW."

"Launch program 'Thoughtscape', password 'quest safety'.

"PASSWORD IS CONFIRMED. LAUNCHING PROGRAM." Around them, the room disappeared and they suddenly found themselves suspended in the middle of a long tunnel lined with angry purplish/pink clouds. Blue-white lightning speared out in all directions and thunder sent vibrations through them. Both young women ducked reflexively.

"IRIS, hoverboards!" Jessie yelled over the din, and abruptly the requested transport materialized under the two girls' feet. Jessie watched as Kefira caught her balance on the hoverboard and looked around her in amazement.

"This is incredible!" she called to Jessie. Then she looked at the hoverboard under her feet. "How do I make this work? Oh, no . . . never mind . . . I believe I found it," she corrected, finding the foot controls on the board.

"Great! Then let's go. Follow me." Jessie shot off along the tunnel with Kefira close beside her. At the far end, they could see nothing but darkness. As they approached, a roiling blue cloud suddenly blocked their way. Jessie headed straight for it.

They hit the cloud and abruptly, the world around them changed. Violent shades of purple and pink gave way to mist gray as the world suddenly seemed shrouded in fog. Gnarled trees and vines rose out of the haze, looking somehow stunted and decaying. Beneath them, a path suddenly appeared. It looked like a bridge of some sort that was suspended over a bottomless abyss. It, too, looked crumbling and decayed, and it was covered with some kind of unhealthy-looking red moss. Kefira gazed around her in fascination. Then she looked over at Jessie and her sudden exclamation caused Jessie's head to snap around sharply.

"What?" she demanded.

"We've . . . changed," Kefira replied. "We're _real_ . . . not . . . not . . . "

"Computer generated," Jessie supplied when the girl couldn't seem to find the right words. "Yeah. I know. Something else Surd did that we can't figure out. Come on, let's get this over with."

They cruised slowly above the road and soon, images began flashing to either side of them. Initially, they were too faint and disappeared too quickly to tell what they were. But the further along the road the two girls traveled, the clearer the images became. Suddenly, right beside Kefira the roiling purple cloud appeared again and a voice cut through the silence clearly,

_"It's trying to defend itself from us!"_

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jonny voice interrupted, sounding alarmed. "I know this place!"

To Jessie's left, another image suddenly appeared and the two of them watched as a bolt of lightning stripped Dr. Quest of his hoverboard and he began falling helplessly toward a blazing inferno. Suddenly, Jonny appeared and they heard him cry,

_"Dad! . . . I'm coming, Dad!"_

And then the image was gone again, to be replaced by the inside of a castle. Stained glass windows with the images of silhouetted warriors lined both sides of a long corridor. Again they heard Jonny's voice,

_"The decoration in this place stinks!"_

_"**That's** a matter of opinion, boy."_ A new figure appeared in the image. His face was white, his hair long and black, and he was dressed in black and slate blue. He sat on a throne and a pair of braziers burned with blue flame on either side of him. He gazed at the images of Jonny and his father with flat, sightless eyes. The sight of the figure made Kefira shudder.

_"I was wondering when you'd make your big entrance, Surd!"_ Benton's voice said in disgust. _"Using Jessie to draw us here was low, even for you!"_

_"Actually, I was expecting Mr. Bannon to take the bait and save his **beloved** daughter. But no matter. Your demise will hurt him enough for my purposes."_ Surd's laugher seemed to surround them even as the image faded away, only to be replaced immediately with a new one.

A laboratory appeared. Jessie stood in the center of the room, holding a flask in each hand. _"Sorry, gentlemen, I have no time for visitors,"_ she said haughtily, turning her back as Benton and Jonny appeared. _"Not if I'm going to win the Nobel Prize."_

"This is Surd's program!" Jonny's voice seemed to come out of nowhere and both women could hear the fear in it. "Hadji, get them out of there!"

"I cannot! The program is not responding!"

The image of Jessie disappeared and beside Kefira, Jonny appeared. He stood on a vast, barren plain watching his father approach him. His grateful smile faded abruptly as Benton Quest said flatly _"You've been a real disappointment, Jonathan."_

_"But, Dad . . ."_

_"Don't interrupt! This journey has really opened my eyes. Jessie's more like me than you'll ever be. Don't you see? She's the one following in my footsteps . . . trying to be a real scientist. Not you!"_ The two girls watched as Jonny sank to his knees at his father's feet.

_"Dad, no . . . I've tried to be like you."_

_"She's the one . . . not you . . ."_ Benton's voice echoed hollowly as the image faded away.

"Admiral Bennett, use the phone on the wall over there! Call my dad, quick! Hadji, can we shut the whole system down . . ."

**"NO!"** Jessie called out to him frantically as the image of a graveyard suddenly formed behind her. Benton Quest wandered aimless among the headstones, looking confused. "Jonny, it's alright! Don't try to stop it!"

_"Looking for me, Father?"_ The image of Benton Quest turned toward the voice.

_"What?"_

_"I'm right here."_ Benton stared in horror at the four gravestones that bore the names of his family. _"We all are."_

_"Jonny? NO!"_

_"You let us down, Dad. Just like you let down my mother!"_

_"That's not true. I tried to save her."_

_"Sure. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."_ Jonny's voice was bitter and sarcastic.

_"No!"_ Benton Quest fell to his knees as Jonny's voice echoed again, _You let us down, Dad!"_

Suddenly, a tower loomed in front of them and Jessie gestured imperatively at Kefira. "Up there. Hurry!" The two of them shot forward, climbing rapidly toward the summit of the tower. Reaching the top, they both entered and found themselves in the laboratory they had seen earlier. But this one was in a shambles. Shattered glass and broken equipment littered the room. But at least now the images were gone.

"What was that?" Kefira asked, shaken.

"I warned you it was going to be a wild ride. It's what's left of the brainwashing program that Surd used on me when he tried to get me to kill my father. The program itself is pretty fragmented. You just get glimpses of it as you travel through it to reach this point. And it's never the same twice. It's always more or less sequential, but the images change each time it runs."

"You should have warned us," Hadji said, sounding aggrieved. "We thought something had gone wrong with QuestWorld."

"And what the hell are you doing with Surd's program up and running?" Jonny demanded, still sounding shaken and angry. "That thing should have been purged from the system a long time ago!"

Jessie's QuestWorld image shook her head. "I will not commit murder, Jonny Quest, and that is what purging this program would amount to."

"This is where Surd is," Kefira said with conviction, looking at her companion.

Jessie nodded and sighed. "Yes. This was the program running at the time that I locked Surd away. I've tried and tried to locate his . . . his . . ." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to call it . . . his essence, I guess . . . in QuestWorld. If I could isolate it, then I could move it elsewhere and destroy the program. But the only place I've ever been able to locate it is within this program. I don't know for sure what would happen if I destroyed it with Surd still inside. But he told us often enough that in one of his programs, if our QuestWorld persona died, we would die with it, and to be honest, I don't really want to test it to see if he's right."

"Well, that's just swell," Jonny said in disgust. "One of the worst programs the man ever devised and we have to maintain it to keep his sorry butt alive. Does that stink or what?"

"So where is he?" Kefira asked.

"Over here," Jessie replied and led the other girl toward the far wall. As they approached, a portal seemed to open in front of them. The two of them stopped just short of stepping through it and gazed inside. The characteristic black and green holostructure of QuestWorld filled the space, but hanging suspended in the middle of it was an image. It seemed to fluctuate constantly, going from an old man in a life support wheelchair, to the image of the man from the throne room. As though muted by distance, a voice could be heard screaming. "What's left of Surd's mind. I don't know. Maybe it would be kinder to just destroy the program and let what's left of him go with it. But I've never been able to bring myself to do that. So he remains here, a prisoner in a cell of his own making."

The two young women stood staring at the image for a long time. Finally, Jessie seemed to shake herself and said, "He's still secure. That's what I wanted to know. Let's get out of here."

"Do we have to go back out . . . " Kefira asked, gesturing back the way they had come.

"No," Jessie said. "This was the end of the original program. From here we can simply exit it. IRIS, terminate program 'Thoughtscape', please."

"ACKNOWLEDGED." Suddenly, both girls were standing in the vectorized room again.

"Well, Admiral Bennett, now you've seen QuestWorld in operation." Jessie said. "Do you still want to see it from the inside?"

There was a long pause and then Bennett replied, "No, thank you. I think I've seen enough. I don't know that I'm quite up to dealing with that."

"Fair enough. Hadji, bring us home, would you?"

"Logging you out . . ."

All three men watched as the brilliant band of light across Jessie and Kefira's eyes disappeared and the visors shut down. After a moment, they both opened their eyes and blinked, reorienting themselves to the real world. Hadji reached out and offered Kefira his hand, helping her stand as Jonny did the same for Jessie.

"That was a remarkable experience," Kefira said.

"It's a lot more fun when you're in there to play one of the games," Jonny assured her. Then he scowled at Jessie. "Next time you do something like that, warn me, okay? You just about gave me heart failure!"

"Sorry," she replied contritely.

"We had better get started on the virus program, Jonny," Hadji said, nudging his brother. Jonny nodded, releasing Jessie and returning to his seat at the console.

"You need us for anything?" Jessie asked.

"I do not believe so," Hadji replied.

"Then Kefira and I will take Admiral Bennett back to the main house. We'll call when dinner's ready."

Bennett was very quiet on the walk back. As they entered the house, they could hear Race and Estella laughing in the kitchen. Kefira and Jessie greeted them cheerfully, but Bennett walked on through and disappeared without saying a word.

"So, did he go in?" Race asked, gazing after him.

"No. We made him watch while Kefira and I went in, and that experience made him decide not to. Said he didn't think he was quite up to it."

Race cocked an eyebrow at his daughter. "What program did you run that scared him off so completely?"

Jessie hesitated and then shrugged resignedly. "Jonny would tell you if I didn't." She explained the situation once again.

"I don't like it," Race said unhappily.

"Neither do I," Estella agreed. "But I don't see that there's anything we can do about it. Jessie's right. We can't just destroy the program if it means we kill Surd at the same time."

"Maybe, but you can bet that I'm going to talk to Benton about it!"


	14. Chapter 13 Tuesday, December 28

**

Chapter 13

**

  


Tuesday, December 28

Quest Compound

  


The shrill ringing of the telephone jarred Jonny awake rudely. He jerked upright, blinking in confusion as his hand groped for the noisy object next to him. Fumbling, he picked up the mobile unit and hit the talk button.

"Hello?" His voice cracked slightly and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?"

The caller on the other end hesitated slightly, and then said, "Jonny, is that you?"

Jonny looked around him, still slightly dazed. He was in the lab. Next to him, Hadji was slumped over a console, sound asleep. On the screen in front of them, lines of code scrolled by swiftly. Other than that, things were quiet. Squinting, he peered down at the time display in the corner of the screen in front of him . . . 5:15 . . . they had been here all night.

"Yeah," he replied, clearing his throat again. "Matt? Is that you?"

"Yeah," the voice on the other end replied. "Look, man, I'm sorry for calling like this. I . . . I didn't realize what time it was . . ."

"Hey, not a problem. I wasn't in bed anyway." Suddenly, alarm flared. "Is something wrong? Has Bobby gotten worse?"

"No . . . nothing like that. The doctor was just here and he said that he's about the same. They've decided to let him be transferred back home today. Dad asked if I'd call and let Race know, since he said he'd take care of the transfer. I just didn't realize it was this early . . . I . . . I'm kinda disjointed right now . . ."

"It's okay. I know what that's like. And like I said, I wasn't in bed anyway."

"It sure sounded like I woke you up."

Jonny laughed and stretched, trying to work some of the stiffness out of his back and neck. "Hadji and I got started on a project in the lab last night and lost track of time. We both ended up falling asleep sitting at our computers. Hadji is still out."

"I am not," Hadji replied, straightening carefully. He rubbed his neck gingerly. "I was simply resting."

"Uh huh, resting face down on your keyboard," Jonny replied good-naturedly and he could hear Matt Evans' weak chuckle on the other end of the line. "So what time does Race need to be at the hospital?"

"They said he should be ready to transferred by 9:00."

"Okay. I'll let Race know so he can start getting things lined up. You can expect him there about 8:45 or so unless something comes up. If he can't make it then, I'll have him call."

"I'll let Mom and Dad know." There was a brief pause. "Jonny . . . "

"Yeah?"

"I . . . I guess I just want to say 'thanks'. You guys have been really great . . . what with Race acting as personal transport, and Estella looking after my Mom and all . . ."

"Forget it. We're just glad we can help."

"Yeah, I know. But Bobby was being such a jerk right before all of this . . . over Francesca and . . ."

Jonny sighed. "Look, Matt, it's no secret that I don't like Francesca, and I figure I've got good reason. But I was out of line, too. It's none of my business to try and tell Bobby whom he should or shouldn't see. Truth is, if she makes him happy, who are we to judge?"

"Are you telling me that you, of all people, are starting to trust her???" Matt asked incredulously.

"No. I'll never trust her . . . no matter what she does. All I'm saying is that as long as Bobby is prepared to hang with her, I at least need to learn to be civil. Matt, you and Bobby have been my closest friends ever since we moved here. I really don't want to lose that. So I'm going to try to apologize to Bobby about the whole mess and see if we can't patch things up between us."

"If you get the chance," Matt replied darkly.

"I'll get the chance," Jonny replied with a confidence he wasn't sure was justified.

"And what if he gets better only to have Francesca get him into trouble again?" Matt demanded. "Jonny, you know Bobby. None of the stuff that's been going on with him since he started dating her is anything like him. He's changed, and none of it is for the better."

"I know. But all of us are reaching the point where we're starting to make choices for ourselves and they're ones we have to learn to live with. Some of 'em, we make and don't tell anyone about, and some of them are out in the open and we have to deal with the consequences. From what Race says, Bobby's going to have enough problems dealing with your mom and dad's reaction if he decides to stick with Francesca. I don't see that he needs to lose friends over it, too."

"That's very noble," Matt said, a bit sarcastically.

"No, it's not. It's practical. I think the more we push Bobby to dump Francesca, the more stubbornly he's going to cling to her. Jeez, Matt, you know him . . . and you know the way he gets when he gets an idea stuck in his head. And no matter how much we push him, he's not going to do anything but turn away from _us_. If we allow that to happen, then when the crash comes . . . and don't mistake me, I think it will come . . . he will have no one to turn to at all. And _that's_ when he's really gonna need friends. So for the time being, I'm gonna put my differences with Francesca aside. I'll watch her like a hawk, but I'll at least associate with her socially. For Bobby's sake."

Matt sighed. "Yeah, I know. And I appreciate your willingness to do that. I just wish he'd see what she's really like and get it over with. And what this is doing to Marla seriously sucks."

"Tell me about it! She called Jess yesterday."

"Oh man . . . She'd heard about Bobby, hadn't she? I'd planned on telling her myself, but when I tried calling her yesterday morning, she wasn't home. How'd she find out?"

"No clue. She called around lunchtime. Kefira and Jessie talked to her. Both of them said she was seriously upset."

"I better call her," Matt said unhappily.

Jonny hesitated. "I don't know, Matt . . . "

"What? You think I shouldn't?"

"I think you'd be better off going to **_see_** her rather than calling. It'll probably be harder for you, but considering her history with Bobby, she'd probably feel better actually seeing a live person."

Matt sighed unhappily and then replied, "You're right. Look, I'm gonna go. I'll give her a call right now and let her know we're bringing him back to Rockport. I can also set up a time later this afternoon when I can go see her."

"Uh, Matt . . ."

"What?"

"Not right now, okay?"

"Why not? Is something else going on?"

Jonny squinted at the clock again. "Matt, it's 5:30 in the morning. I don't think you want to get her or her parents up at this hour."

"Oh! No, you're right. That wouldn't be a good idea. Thanks. I'm not real with it, I guess."

"That's okay," Jonny said, laughing slightly. "You're forgiven. Why don't you go get a little sleep? Sounds like you need it."

"Yeah. Okay. You'll tell Race, right?"

"Right now. Go get some sleep, Matt."

"Right. Bye."

Jonny cut the connection and looked over at Hadji. "Well, he's fried."

"I do not think you can blame him."

"No. Not much." Jonny stood and stretched. "Man, I'm stiff. How's the program doing?"

"Almost done compiling. Once it is finished, we need to test it. Do we still have any of those old PCs in storage or did we finally destroy them all?"

"I don't remember. We'll have to look." Hadji had been gazing at Jonny with a speculative look for quite some time. Finally, Jonny rose to the bait. "What?"

"I am just wondering something."

"Well, what?"

"What choices have you made recently that you are not telling anyone about?"

"What do you . . . oh, my comment to Matt, you mean."

"Yes. You had something specific in mind, I could tell. What have you done, my friend?"

A slow flush rose into Jonny's face and his eyes fell under Hadji's steady gaze. He turned and began walking toward the door as he replied, "Nothing I should be talking about."

"Jonny . . ."

"Look, it's a decision we made and it's probably best that it stays quiet."

"We?"

Jonny turned back to look at his brother in frustration. "I just hate it when you do that!"

"Do what?"

"Sit there looking at me and picking out things I say so that you end up boxing me into a corner!"

"That makes it sound like you have a guilty conscience."

"I do not! We're not sorry and it was the right decision. It's just not a good idea to talk about it, that's all."

"Father told you last night that it is not a good idea to keep things bottled up inside you, either."

"This is different."

"Why?"

"It just is, that's all."

"That is not a reason. Why is this different?"

"Because it would only upset people."

"What people?"

"Hadji!"

"Would it upset me?"

"I don't know . . . maybe."

"Jessie?"

"Jessie was in on making the decision."

"Father? Race?"

"Would you stop it?"

"Were you at least careful?"

"Of course we were careful! You don't think we're that stu . . ." Jonny stopped dead. "What do you mean, 'Was I careful?'"

"Exactly what you thought I meant, and exactly the way you responded. You and Jessie have slept together."

Jonny glared at him and then threw up his hands in resignation. "Yes. Are you happy now?"

"That depends. Are you?"

Jonny came back over and sat down again. Gazing steadily at Hadji, he replied, "Yes, I am. It wasn't something we did because things got out of hand, Hadj. We discussed it, talked about the possible repercussions, and finally decided that it was right for us. We aren't sorry."

Hadji smiled at him. "Then I am pleased for you both."

"You don't seem surprised."

"I am not. It was simply a matter of time. I have told you before, I knew a very long time ago that the two of you were meant for each other. And to be honest, I cannot see you waiting four or five years to take this step. It was either this, or marrying much younger than you have told me you are planning. This seemed to me to be the most likely outcome. But I do believe you are wise in not discussing it right now. I do not think that Father or Race would take it well."

"No, I think you're right. We're just going to keep a very low profile and hope that neither one of them asks us point blank."

"And if they do?"

"We won't lie about it."

Hadji nodded. "I will help if I can. But if you are serious about not letting Father or Race know, you must watch yourselves very carefully. I suspected that something had transpired between the two of you."

Jonny's gaze sharpened. "Why? What did we do?"

"It is not so much anything that you did, as it is the way you are responding to each other. The experience has brought the two of you closer than ever before, and your body language is communicating it."

"Oh, great! And do you think Dad or Race have noticed?"

Hadji shook his head. "No. Race has been more interested in Estella, and Father . . . well, Father is not that focused right now. Plus, there has been so much happening, there has not been time for either of them to become aware of it."

"Then how is it you did?"

Hadji smiled. "Let us just say that I understand you a bit better than I used to."

Jonny started to laugh softly. "Oh, the wonders of the right woman. Well, you cover my back and I'll cover yours."

"As we have always done," Hadji agreed. Then he sighed. "But you do not have to worry about covering mine . . . at least, not when it comes to this subject."

"Oh, you never know."

The smile was gone now, replaced with a bitter expression. "No, I no longer control those choices. At least, not if I hope to marry Kefira one day. If I sleep with her before we marry, I will not be permitted to take her as my wife."

"Well, how are they gonna know?" Hadji stared at him without speaking. "Are you telling me they _check???_"

"Yes."

"That . . . that's disgusting! And rude. And none of their business!!!"

Hadji sighed and shook his head. "It is an old custom . . . designed to ensure that the child produced by the wife of the Sultan truly is fathered by him and is of the royal bloodline."

"That's what DNA tests are for."

"I said it was an old custom."

"Well, it's one that needs to be changed!"

"Yes, but I can only push them so far," Hadji replied with weary bitterness. "Attempting to change _this_ custom right now would be unwise. It is too deeply ingrained. Plus there are more important battles that need to be fought, so my personal preferences cannot figure into it."

Jonny stared at his brother for a long time. Then he said quietly, "I think I'm not the only one who has stuff he needs to talk about." Hadji opened his mouth to protest, but Jonny shook his head decisively. "Don't tell me you're fine, and don't tell me it's nothing. I know you better than that. Hadji, I've never seen you this unhappy. And it's showing. You've lost your temper more in the last six months than you have the rest of your life put together. You're also tense all the time. You can't keep this up, Hadj. We're family. If you can't bring your problems to us, then who can you bring them to?"

"There is nothing you can do."

"We can listen. Is that nothing?"

"No, it is a great deal."

Jonny looked at him for a minute and then asked, "We're brothers, right?"

"Always, and no matter what happens," Hadji agreed instantly. Jonny held out an arm and Hadji grasped it. "Then let's make a promise to each other. When this mess is over and we don't have to worry about Baxter or Surd any more, we'll sit down and talk . . . for as long as it takes to help both of us work through our issues. Deal?"

"It is a deal. And perhaps, somewhere in that time, we can include both Jessie and Kefira, because both of them have a vested interest in our futures."

"It's a date." Jonny glanced over at the computer monitor. "Looks like it's done compiling."

"Then I will go looking for a test computer while you go let Race know that he must be in Rumford by 9:00."

Jonny rose and, slapping Hadji on the back, he said, "I'll be right back." He grabbed his coat as he headed toward the spiral staircase that descended toward the main door to the lighthouse. As he opened it, a blast of frigid air greeted him and he shivered involuntarily. The temperature had dropped dramatically overnight. Jonny gazed skyward as he moved quickly toward the main house. The air was crystal clear and the pre-dawn sky shimmered with stars. _Cold but beautiful,_ Jonny thought. He spotted a light in the kitchen and picked up his pace, ready to be in where it was warm. As he came in, Jessie looked up from her position at the breakfast bar and smiled. Jonny shrugged off his coat and hung it up by the door as Jessie crossed to greet him.

"Good morning," she said softly. His only reply was to put his arms around her and kiss her. The kiss was gentle and loving and lingered for a long time.

"Morning," he finally replied. She laid her head against his chest and they stood in contented silence, simply holding each other for a time. Jonny nuzzled the top of her head gently and said in a very soft voice, "Hadji knows."

Jessie raised her head to look at him. "You told him?" she asked in the same soft tone. Jonny noticed that she didn't sound upset.

He shook his head. "No. He guessed." A smile flickered on his face. "He made me own up to it, though." Then he cupped the back of her neck with his hand and caressed her cheek gently. "He warned me, however, that we need to be more careful. He says our body language toward each other has changed and it shows."

Alarm flared in her eyes. "Does he think that Dad and Dr. Quest have caught it?"

"No, not yet."

Jessie frowned and stepped back from him. "It's gonna be hard controlling reactions we don't even realize we're making."

"Hadji'll cover for us, and he'll warn us if it starts getting too obvious."

"He wasn't upset about it, was he?" Jessie asked anxiously.

"No. If anything, he seemed downright pleased."

Jessie sighed in relief. "That's good. In a way, I was almost more worried about _his_ reaction than I was about Dad's or Dr. Quest's."

Jonny looked at her in surprise. "You were? Why?"

"I don't know," she replied, shrugging helplessly. "I guess because I was afraid that if he disapproved, it would drive a wedge between the three of us. That would almost be like losing an arm or something."

"Yeah, it would." He looked at her for a minute, then added thoughtfully, "A little bit like Matt must feeling, facing the prospect of losing Bobby." Then he shook his head and sighed. "Speaking of which . . . have you seen Race yet this morning?" He told her about the phone call.

"No, he hasn't stirred."

Jonny chuckled. "This is late for him. Married life must be agreeing with him. I'm gonna go get him up and let him know that they're ready to move Bobby, then. Any chance you can throw some sort of breakfast together for Hadji and me? After I talk to Race, I need to go back out to the lab."

"Sure, I'll put together something. How's the work on the program going?"

"It finished compiling a little while ago. We're ready to run the first tests on it. I'll be back."

He strode through the quiet house until he reached the door to Race's suite. He knocked sharply on the door and waited. After a minute or two, he knocked again. Almost immediately, the door opened and Race stood in the doorway. He wore the bottom half of a pair of pajamas and nothing else. Behind him, in the door to the bedroom, Jonny spotted Estella. She wore the other half of the pajamas. Both looked to be freshly awake.

"Sorry to wake you," Jonny said apologetically, "but Matt called a little while ago." Quickly, he explained.

"At least they're sending him home," Race said gratefully, "even if it is to a local hospital. What time is it?"

"A little after six," Jonny replied.

"I'm going to get in the shower," Estella told Race. "You call Barbara and get things rolling." Then she disappeared.

"How did Matt sound?" Race asked.

"Exhausted. Out of sync. About the way you'd expect. Waiting's the hardest." Then he gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. "I gotta run. Jess is throwing something together for breakfast and I need to get back to Hadji."

"How's the work going?"

"Getting there. You gonna need either one of us to help with the transfer?"

"No," Race replied, shaking his head. "Your priority is getting that virus program done."

Jonny nodded and waved, briskly heading back toward the kitchen. 

  


* * * * *

  


**Conners Residence, Rockport, Maine**

  


Francesca lay flat on her back staring blindly at the ceiling. Sunrise was fast approaching and the vague shadows in her room were slowly resolving themselves into familiar objects once again. She had lain awake most of the night in constant, throbbing pain. She should have taken the medication the doctor had given her, but it left her so groggy she could scarcely think. She was pushing too hard . . . forcing herself to do things she shouldn't be doing . . . and those actions were taking their toll. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than the chance to slip away into the oblivion of sleep for a while. But the constant ache and her restless mind wouldn't give her that release. If she could just make it through today. Once Leeds got those codes into the Quest's computer, it should finish quickly. Baxter wouldn't wait to strike. He didn't have the patience.

Leeds was to call her as soon as it was done. Then she would notify Baxter. She didn't know what the man's plans were, but it shouldn't be hard to find out. He loved to boast. Her own plan was simple . . . find out what Baxter planned to do and then put Leeds directly in the path of it. One final phone call to Baxter, warning him of Leeds' presence, would be all it would take to finish the job. What would happen next, she didn't know . . . but she didn't really care, either. There would be time enough to make up her mind about that once this business was finished.

The soft twitter of her cellular phone, which sat in its battery charger beside the bed, startled her. No one ever called her on that phone. The Conners had given it to her in case of emergencies and, in an effort to stay on their good side, she rarely used it. There was only one person who had the number besides Mr. and Mrs. Conners and he . . . With difficulty, she sat up and reached for it.

"Hello?" she said hesitantly.

"Francesca?" a familiar voice queried. She suddenly felt as though her brain had gone numb. It couldn't be . . . could it?

"B-B-Bobby?" The sudden surge of hope and joy surprised her. "Bobby, is that you? Are you okay? No one told me you were awake! How do you feel? Where are you?"

"Wait!" the voice said, breaking in on her stream of questions. Something in the tone caused Francesca to falter.

"Bobby, what's wrong?"

The voice at the other end of the line sighed and then said quietly, "This isn't Bobby, Francesca. It's Matt."

"Matt . . ." All the excitement and happiness drained away. She choked up abruptly and her voice caught on a sob as she said, "I-I thought you were Bobby . . ."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What do you want?" she said sullenly, angry at herself for her own reactions. "Are you going to yell at me, too?"

"No," Matt replied, wondering who had been yelling at her. "Look, Francesca. I'm not going to lie and say that I've been pleased about your relationship with Bobby. I haven't been. But from what everyone says, my brother's alive right now because of you. And I figure that means we owe you something."

"Gee, thanks," she said sourly. "Your family sure has a strange way of saying 'thanks.'"

"What are you talking about?" Matt asked, his original intentions of trying to be civil rapidly dissipating in the face of her irritability.

"I have been trying and trying to find out how Bobby is. But when I call to ask, I get nothing but grief. Your father hangs up on me, and your mother . . . she calls me names. The only one who was even vaguely civil was Jessie Bannon's mother! And now, I can't even find out by asking the hospital because your parents have told them that they aren't to tell me anything!"

"Well, you can hardly blame them!" Matt replied, irritation turning to anger. "Before you came along, Bobby was happy, healthy, and never got in trouble. Since he's started seeing you, he's out until all hours of the night, he comes home drunk, and now he's half dead!"

"Before I came along, Bobby was bored out of his mind! Do you really think I'm that good? That I could get him to do all those things against his will? Open your eyes and see reality, Matt! Bobby may have been good at hiding it, but the truth was that he was restless and bored. And then, when he began to have some fun, everybody got uptight. Of course he turned rebellious. Do you really blame him?"

"I don't believe it," Matt said flatly. "I know my brother. He was happy and well adjusted, and he was absolutely crazy about Marla Dawson. And then you came along and pulled the same kind of stuff that you did on Jonny and . . ."

"What has Jonny Quest been telling you???"

"He didn't have to tell anyone anything. We all watched you split he and Jessie up . . . just like you did Bobby and Marla."

"I've got news for you, Matt Evans!" Francesca said hotly. "I didn't split up Jonny Quest and Jessie Bannon. They weren't even a couple when I started dating him. Jessie may have thought he belonged to her, but he sure didn't know it! And we were happy, too, until she interfered. If anything, she stole him from me!"

"Oh and since you can't have Jonny, you decide to make my brother's life miserable? Is that it?"

Francesca was about to retort furiously, but that small, calculating voice in her head stopped her. No, there was another way . . . a much better way . . . She let the silence stretch between them for a long minute before she replied.

"He wasn't miserable," Francesca said in a whispery, choked voice. "He was happy . . . we both were. He even told me . . . he said . . . " And then she began to cry in deep, heartwrenching sobs.

On the other end of the connection, Matt Evans blinked and stared at the receiver like it was an alien artifact. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Putting the phone to his ear again, he called, "Francesca?"

"Hello? Who is this?" a new voice demanded. After a minute, Matt recognized it as that of Lillian Conners.

"Mrs. Conners? This is Matt Evans. I was . . ."

"Just what do you and your family think you're doing, Matthew Evans?" the woman demanded angrily. "This poor girl is practically in hysterics."

"Mrs. Conners, I was only trying . . ."

"I don't care what you were trying to do! This child saved your brother's life! And she cares about him a great deal. And you're all treating her like some kind of monster. She's hurt badly enough she can hardly move and you sit there and get her into this state. You should be ashamed of yourself . . . you and your entire family! And you can tell your parents I said so!"

With that, the connection was cut off abruptly, leaving Matt stunned and suddenly wondering if maybe he'd been wrong after all. 

  


* * * * *

  


**Lighthouse Lab, Quest Compound**

"That did not work, either," Hadji said in disgust.

Jonny uttered a rude word and then leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "I can't even seem to think straight any longer. It's so close . . ."

"Yes," Hadji agreed wearily. "It is certainly destructive enough, and there is definitely no way to salvage any part of the program once it starts spreading, but it is still too obvious. Even outdated copies of virus software are detecting it. It would be spotted immediately."

"Hey!" Jessie said cheerfully, walking in the door with a large basket.

Kefira followed her in carrying another one and smiled at the two young men as she set it on a nearby counter. "We thought perhaps you would like some lunch."

"That sounds great!" Jonny said gratefully. "I need something to kickstart my brain again."

"But I do not want to eat here," Hadji said firmly. "I have been in this room far too long. Let us go up to the observation level."

"It's gonna be cold up there," Jessie warned.

"No, it's not!" Jonny disagreed with a grin. "Race managed to get the heating unit up there fixed."

"You're kidding," Jessie said as the two men picked up the baskets and the four of them headed for the stairs. "That's never worked. What did he do?"

Jonny grinned. "Rewired the entire place!"

Kefira stared at Jonny wide-eyed. "Are you saying that he rewired all the circuits in this entire lighthouse?" They could all see her thinking of the huge complex of computers below them.

"No," Jonny laughed. "The wiring for the computer systems, communications lines, and the research lab were all done before any of that stuff was installed. But a lot of the wiring for the routine operation of the lighthouse itself was done in the 1950's when they upgraded it and put in the automated beacon. That's pretty old for a structure like this one, particularly when you consider how much of a pounding it tends to get."

The four young people climbed the last of the stairs and stepped into a large open room. Kefira gasped involuntarily. The room sat immediately below the beacon and was about ten feet across. The walls appeared to be made of glass, but when Kefira reached out to touch one of them tentatively, she found it was actually some type of multipaned, thermally insulated clear acrylic. Padded window seats of a highly polished, golden wood lined the windows, and a large, round table made of matching wood stood at the very center of the space. The only other things in the room were a large storage cabinet on the landing near the stairs and a black steel staircase that spiraled up into the very top of the lighthouse. 

"Oh, this is magnificent!" Kefira breathed. As she looked around, she saw that the lighthouse stood like a lonely sentinel on a point of land that jutted out into the ocean. About six feet from the base of the structure, the cliffs fell away steeply to the restless water far below. She turned slowly, watching as the view went from open ocean to rugged coastline, to the lawns surrounding the main house and it's associated buildings. Behind the structures, the tall stands of trees that screened them from the main highway were clearly visible. As she continued to turn, the view seemed to repeat itself in reverse, going from the buildings back to lawns, coastline, and open ocean once again. The view from this place was totally unobstructed and left her feeling as though she was perched on top of the world.

"This is one of my favorite places," Hadji said quietly, coming up behind her. He slipped his arms around her and stood gazing out on the tranquil, sparkling water. "There is a rightness about this place that is very strong. Can you feel it?"

"Yes," she agreed in a soft voice. "It has it's own power . . . not always peaceful, I do not believe, but very . . . " She trailed off as though searching for the right word. "Elemental?"

Hadji nodded. "I believe that would be a good description. I cannot even begin to describe what it is like to watch a storm move in from the sea from this place. It is as though the ancient gods themselves have risen to war with this as their field of battle."

Kefira's eyes took on a dreamy quality and in a soft voice, she said,

_The sky is changed,--and such a change! O night  
And storm and darkness! Ye are wondrous strong,  
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light  
Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,  
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,  
Leaps the live thunder._

Hadji looked down at her in surprise. "Lord Byron," he commented, identifying the quote. "Yes, very much like that." He gazed out across the water again and finally sighed. "I miss this place when I am away. I miss the peace it brings me."

"It is always here, beloved," Kefira replied looking up at him. "Hold it in your mind and your heart, and no matter how far away you may be, its peace will always be with you."

He smiled at her. "You are right. I just find it hard to remember at times."

She leaned her head back against his chest and smiled. "Then I will be certain to remind you."

Hadji didn't reply . . . just laid his cheek against the stop of her head and tightened his arms around her.

Jonny looked over at Jessie with raised eyebrows and mouthed silently, 'Beloved?' Jessie just smiled back happily and gave him a thumbs-up sign. Jonny grinned and said cheerfully, "Knock it off, you guys. Jeez, you're getting as bad as Jess and I. Come on. I'm hungry. Let's eat!"

Kefira laughed softly, turning back to the other couple, as Hadji said, "I believe it is only fair. I have had to put up with the two of you for the last two years."

"Too true," Jonny agreed. "And I know it hasn't always been easy."

Hadji laughed as they began to empty the baskets onto the table. "That is certainly true. Jessie has been kidnapped, attacked several times, and almost ended up dead. You have been attacked, stormed an enemy stronghold without help, and fallen over a 100 foot cliff leaving all of us thinking you had died. And you both have been stranded on a mountain following an earthquake. And when one of you gets hurt or is in trouble, the other one becomes totally impossible to reason with. It is no wonder Father has begun developing gray hair."

"Like you haven't given him a few in your day!" Jonny retorted. Then with an evil grin, he continued. "You may not have gotten into quite as much direct trouble as we did, but you sure did have lousy taste in women . . . present company excluded, of course," he qualified quickly, with a wink at Kefira.

"Of course," she replied solemnly.

"I did not!" Hadji protested.

"Oh, yes, you did!" Jessie replied fervently. "I will _never_ understand what you saw in Anaya Zin!"

"Not to mention Elise!" Jonny added.

"And there's Linda Zaveri at school . . ." Jessie added.

"And Lora Tambouri in Africa." Jonny supplied.

"And . . . "

_**"STOP!"**_ Hadji said loudly, and his two best friends snickered.

"Yes," Kefira agreed. "You must stop and go back. I want details!"

Hadji glared at Jessie and Jonny as both of them convulsed in laughter. "Just remember," Hadji said ominously, "that I know more about the two of you than _anyone_ else."

Jonny controlled his laughter with difficulty. "Okay, you've made your point. Truce."

"Truce," his brother agreed. He eyed the growing pile of food that Jessie and Kefira were emptying out onto the table. "Are you expecting us to stay in the lighthouse for an extended period of time? I do not believe I am quite this hungry."

"Don't knock it," Jessie said grimly. "It gets us out of the house."

Jonny and Hadji exchanged a concerned look. "What's going on up at the house?" Jonny asked.

Jessie grimaced. "Connor Leeds is back. Mom is seriously unhappy about it, and Dad is as nervous as a mouse at a stray cat convention."

"What does he want?"

"I have no clue. He just turned up at the gate and demanded to see Admiral Bennett . . . claimed it was urgent and too sensitive to trust to a phone call, but I think it sounds fishy. If it was so urgent, why did he take the time to drive all the way up here? And when you consider where he works, it's not like he couldn't have gotten a secure line."

Jonny frowned. "It does sound strange." Then he looked at Jessie and asked tentatively, "Do you have any idea what the history is between him and Race? The way Estella went after Leeds the other day, it must be something pretty bad."

Jessie was slow to respond. "No, not really. But whatever it is, it goes back a long way, I think. When we first met him, the name didn't click with me. But the longer I've thought about it, the more I'm certain that I can remember Mom and Dad talking about him when I was little." Then she grimaced. "No, yelling about him. They tried really hard never to fight in front of me when they were still together, but I can remember lying in bed at night listening to them scream at each other. And I'm sure that at least some of those fights had to do with Connor Leeds. My mom really does hate him . . . even though she won't say that outright." Jessie flicked a glance from Jonny to Hadji. "You guys were there when things erupted the other day . . . what happened? What did she say?"

Jonny shrugged. "Things were pretty tense. Dad was seriously pissed and was putting a lot of pressure on Admiral Bennett. They evidently knew that Estella had been with Race at the time of the attack, but they didn't know if she had come out of it alive. Bennett was trying to find out if she was okay when she walked right into the middle of it. Race tried to ease her out again, but you know your mom . . . "

"The instant she realized she was being maneuvered, she was determined to stay," Jessie said knowingly.

"Yeah, that was pretty much it. She got Admiral Bennett to introduce her to the others and when he introduced Leeds, she just lost it."

"She accused him of trying to get Race killed," Hadji added.

"Of setting Race up to get him killed," Jonny corrected. "And she implied it wasn't the first time he'd done it, either. Does that ring any bells with you, Jess?"

Jessie thought about it for a while, then shook her head. "Not specifically, no. But then I was pretty young when they split up, and their relationship had been rocky for several years before the divorce. The only real impression I have is of having heard his name before."

"I do not trust him," Kefira said firmly. "He is much like a foreman my father had once at our main mine. Very pleasant and efficient when you met him face to face, but the exact opposite when your back was turned. He cut corners and put the men under him at risk. Eventually, he got several of them killed because of the way he operated. Father finally fired him."

"I don't trust him, either," Jonny agreed, gazing out toward the main house. "Let's just hope that Dad and Race are keeping a close eye on him." 

  


* * * * *

  


**Main House  
Quest Compound**

Bennett closed the door to Benton Quest's study behind him and turned to glare at his companion. "Alright, Leeds, let's have it. What are you doing here after I ordered you back to Washington with instructions to stay there?"

"Something is happening. Baxter is on the move. I've gotten word through an informant that the man plans to strike at the Quests in the very near future."

"What informant? I thought the man we lost in the desert was the only plant we had in Baxter's organization."

"It was at the time. I've been working on trying to turn one of the people in his organization for several months now, and I finally managed to accomplish it. The person called yesterday afternoon to let me know that the strike was being prepared."

"What kind of strike?"

Leeds shook his head, pacing restlessly. "My informant didn't know. Only that one was being readied."

"Then what are you doing here?" Bennett demanded sharply. "You need to be back at I-1 where the person can reach you!"

"Not necessary," Leeds replied. "This informant uses e-mail. All I need to do is log onto my office account."

Bennett eyed the man suspiciously. "Are you saying you've never talked with this person directly? How do you know he's reliable?"

"Yes, I've talked with him directly. But it's difficult for him to reach a phone where it's safe to call. But he has ready access to a computer terminal and whatever his encryption program is, he's confident enough in it to be willing to communicate via e-mail. So far, his information has been 100% accurate. So if he says that Baxter is planning an assault on Quest in the very near future, I'm prepared to believe him."

"That still doesn't tell me what you are doing here against express orders," Bennett snapped. "This is nothing you couldn't have called me from Washington about. You did not have to come here."

Leeds' expression was ugly as he turned on Bennett. "Baxter is _**MINE,**_" he replied harshly. "I've been chasing this bastard for over ten years and I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and do nothing when there is an opportunity to flush him out into the open. The intelligence says he's going to strike at this place, so that's where I want to be."

"I don't care where you want to be, Leeds," Bennett said tightly. "The Quest's don't want you here . . ."

"You mean _Bannon_ doesn't want me here!" Leeds cut in sharply.

"It's the same thing. You know the place he holds in Benton Quest's household. If Race doesn't want you here, then Dr. Quest doesn't want you here, and we can't afford to alienate either one of them."

"They were happy enough to have me here a couple of days ago," Leeds replied bitterly.

"Not particularly," Bennett responded coldly. "You made them an offer and they took you up on it. It may have made you a few points, Leeds, but I doubt there is a thing in this world that you could do to make up for what you've done in the past as far as Estella Velasquez-Bannon is concerned. And as long as she is upset by your presence, you won't be tolerated here."

"I'm trying to keep them safe!"

"There's a fine line between trying to keep them safe, and using them to attract the man you are trying to take down. Race knows how you work and so do I. I want you to leave . . . **NOW!**"

Leeds swore and smacked the back of one of the study chairs in fury. Finally, he said stiffly. "At the very least, let me check my e-mail before I go. If I've heard back from my informant, I might have some additional information that could help keep them secure."

Bennett looked hesitant, clearly torn. Finally, he replied, "We'll leave that up to Benton Quest." He picked up the phone on the desk and did something Leeds couldn't see. After a few seconds, he said, "Dr. Quest, I wonder if you could join us for a few minutes? Thank you." He set the phone down once again and the two men stood waiting in silence.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Benton Quest entered. Both Bennett and Leeds half-expected Race to follow the older man into the room, but Benton closed the door behind him. He had come alone.

"So?" Benton asked.

Bennett sighed, sensing that, thanks to Connor Leeds, he was an outsider in this house once again. "Leeds tells me that he has received a warning that Baxter is about ready to strike at you here in the Compound. He came because he is concerned for your safety."

"I'll say it again," Benton replied stiffly. "I am safe in this Compound. My family is around me, the defenses are in place and operating at optimum performance, and, against my better judgment, I've allowed you to put guards around the outer perimeter. If he wants to try to strike at this place, then let him. He won't get through."

"Yes, I understand, Doctor. But forewarned is forearmed. Leeds is waiting for a message from his informant. He would like your permission to utilize one of your terminals briefly to check his e-mail through the agency. He says this is the way the person generally contacts him."

"You know that we've got the computer systems here cut off from the outside to ensure no one attempts to get into them."

"Please, Dr. Quest," Leeds begged urgently. "It will take very little time, and if my informant has been able to come up with the exact time and how the attempt will be made, it will go a long way toward ensuring that your security isn't breached."

Benton Quest stared at the raven-haired man with a brooding expression. Finally, in a hard voice, he said, "The man whose opinion I value the most highly in this entire world does not trust you any further than he can see you, Mr. Leeds. Give me one good reason why I should."

Leeds gestured helplessly. "How do I convince you, Dr. Quest? Race Bannon hates me, and I'm not going to try to tell you that he doesn't have just cause . . . he does. I was young, hot-headed, and full of myself back when we worked together. I would go to almost any lengths to achieve my goals and others paid the price. I don't always learn very quickly, and my temper still gets the better of me sometimes. But I've seen what Baxter is capable of." Leeds stopped abruptly, staring inward at some vision in his own mind, and a shudder ran through him before he continued hoarsely. "I thought I knew and understood the depths the man could reach, but what he did at Brattleford prison . . ." Finally, Leeds' eye rose to lock on Benton's. "No matter what my history with Bannon is . . . no matter how much I'd like to say 'Screw it . . . you don't want me . . . I'll leave' . . . I can't do that. Because if something should happen here . . . something I might have prevented . . . " He stopped and just shook his head.

After a long moment, Benton finally sighed. "All right. Five minutes. No more. And Admiral Bennett and I will stay here while you do it."

"Fair enough. I won't need any longer than that."

"IRIS," Benton said quietly. "Reinforce all firewalls and isolate the computer unit in the study from the rest of the system. Once the unit is secure, reestablish the connection to the internet backbone on this single unit. Then allow one-time access to Lieutenant Commander Leeds."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WORKING." After a few moments, she said, "UNIT ISOLATED AND SECURE. CONNECTION TO THE BACKBONE REESTABLISHED. PREPARING FOR IDENTITY VERIFICATION. PLEASE PLACE YOUR RIGHT HAND ON THE MONITOR PLATE ON THE DESK AND STATE YOUR FULL NAME, TITLE AND PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT."

Leeds stepped up to the desk and looked around. He suddenly saw that what he thought was a glass top on the desk was actually a flat computer monitor build into the desk. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the glass and said, "Connor Ian Leeds, Lieutenant Commander, United States Navy on permanent assignment to Intelligence One, United States Government."

"IDENTITY CONFIRMED. ACCESS GRANTED. YOU HAVE A MAXIMUM OF TEN MINUTES TO COMPLETE YOUR ACTIVITY."

"The keyboard pulls out from under the desk," Benton instructed him. "Are you familiar with a mainframe computer environment?"

"No."

"Then use the Windows environment simulation. It's probably what you are familiar with. Just type 'Execute windowing simulation' at the prompt and the system will bring up an environment you should recognize. There will be an icon on the desktop that says 'e-mail'. Simply run that and follow the prompts."

Leeds nodded and pulled out the keyboard. He typed for a moment and then hit another key. The result caused him to utter a profane word.

"What?" Benton demanded, moving to come around the desk.

Leeds shook his head and glanced up with a sour grin. "Nothing. My fingers don't want to work, that's all. Computers are not my strong point." He tried again and this time the results caused him to nod. "Works a lot better when you have your fingers on the right keys." He worked for a bit longer and then sighed in frustration. "Nothing. I really thought he would have known something by this time. Do I just exit from this?"

"In the lower right corner you will see a button marked 'exit'. Just click on that. It will get you out. IRIS, allow the system to shut down, log it off of the backbone, and then run a security diagnostic on it, please."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. SYSTEM SHUT DOWN, CONNECTION TERMINATED, TEMPORARY USER ACCESS CANCELLED, AND DIAGNOSTIC IN PROCESS. NO ATTEMPTS AT ENTRY WERE DETECTED. SYSTEM IS SECURE."

"Thank you, IRIS. Reconnect the unit to the Compound system. Monitor all approaches to the Compound closely and notify me of any change."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"Alright, Mr. Leeds, that's it," Benton said with finality. "I gave you the chance to check on your possible lead, and it didn't pan out. Now I want you out of this house and off of the grounds. And from now on, I would prefer that you call ahead if you want to come here. Don't just turn up at the front gate. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Leeds replied stiffly.

"Admiral, would you be good enough to escort Mr. Leeds off the property. I will see to it that IRIS has the pedestrian gate set to open when the two of you get there."

Bennett nodded. Then he paused and looked at Benton Quest. "And me?"

Benton shrugged. "That I'll leave up to you. You're welcome to return if you wish. You know what you are allowed access to and what you aren't, and I trust you not to push those limits."

Bennett nodded. "I'll be back shortly, then. Come on, Leeds, let's go."

Benton sank back into his desk chair after they had left and said, "IRIS, monitor them out to the gate and display the feed on the monitor in the study."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. DISPLAYING NOW."

Benton watched the pair in silence while he brooded. There was something not quite right about that entire encounter, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Finally, he sighed and shrugged to himself. Whatever it was, if something really was fishy, he was sure he'd find out about it soon enough.

  


* * * * *

  


Race stopped in the family room doorway and watched his wife. She stood at the front window, watching Bennett and Leeds drive off toward the front gate. The rigidness of her posture told him she was still upset. After a minute, he moved up behind her and rubbed her shoulders gently. For a moment, she didn't say anything, continuing to stare fixedly out the front window.

"I'm trying, Race," she said finally.

He sighed softly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. "I know," he replied quietly.

"I . . . I'm just having a hard time . . . with that man. Bennett is one thing. If you got in trouble, I know in my own mind that he would do everything in his power to protect you. Even Jade . . . as hard as I find it to think about her, I can't believe she would ever deliberately do anything to put you at risk. But with Leeds, it's totally different. He's still in the business and it seems like every time he comes anywhere near, death follows him. And no matter how hard I try, I keep getting the feeling that if things got tight . . . and he thought that you were in his way, he'd kill you himself. That terrifies me."

"That's not going to happen, Stel. I promise you, I won't allow myself to be put into that position. No one knows better than I do what Connor Leeds is like, or what he's capable of. I'm out of the game and I will _not_ be drawn back into it again. I wouldn't be involved with them now if it weren't for the fact that the people Bennett and Leeds are chasing have targeted our family."

"I know," she replied with a sigh. "I'll be okay. I just didn't expect him to show up today and it caught me off guard. I can deal with him civilly when I expect it, but when he just turns up like that, throwing out demands and veiled threats . . . "

Race chuckled dryly and turned her away from the windows. "I understand. He gets to me, too. But, Stel, you have to promise me something. You simply have to quit hitting the man. That's twice in three days that you've nailed him. Leeds is a professional, and he's trained to react to a threat, not to stop and think about it first. If you keep this up, one of these days you're going to catch him at a time when he's not as firmly in control and he's going to hurt you. And then we **will** have a problem, because _I'll_ have to hurt _him_ and things will get out of hand very quickly."

Estella flushed and looked ashamed. "I know. I'm sorry. I never should have struck him. But when he looked at Benton and made that crack about choosing which members of his family would die . . . well, I just lost it. You said you told him what happened to Rachel. That crack was totally uncalled for. He had to know how deeply it would cut, but he said it anyway because he knew it would get him what he wanted. The bastard . . ."

"I know. I know . . . "

"And then to have the audacity to ask to _stay_ here under the pretext of wanting to help protect him! Who needs _that_ kind of protection?" she demanded hotly, pulling away from him. She turned and gestured angrily toward the front gate. "He's _lying,_ Race! What did he want? What has he done?" She turned back to him and glared fiercely when she saw him grinning at her. "What's so funny?"

"You. Two months ago you were saying to me that you felt so left out to hear Jessie and I talking about this place being 'home'. And now, here you are, socking Leeds for making nasty comments to Benton, and losing your temper because someone is threatening this family. It certainly didn't take you long to find your place here."

Estella opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again, not sure how to respond. She thought about it for a minute and then said slowly, "You know, you're right. I . . . I do feel like I belong here. I actually feel more at home here than I have anywhere I can ever remember . . . even more than when I was still living at home with my parents. I don't know what it is . . ."

"I do. It's Benton." Race shook his head. "I can't tell you how he does it, but when you cross that threshold from being an acquaintance to being a part of his inner circle, there is something that changes. He cares deeply about the people he allows close to him, and he is an incredibly giving man. I remember when Hadji first joined us." Race chuckled. "He was a flip little cuss . . . always polite and cooperative, but a master at the art of double meanings. And he could cause his fair share of trouble, let me tell you. He was a practical joker like you wouldn't believe . . ."

"Hadji?!?" Estella exclaimed in astonishment.

Race nodded, perching on the arm of a nearby chair. "Yes, believe it or not. And he seemed to have a streak of the daredevil in him that could be even worse than Jonny. The two of them made a formidable pair, let me tell you. They were forever getting into trouble. They gave Benton and I more gray hair than either of us care to admit."

"But . . . but . . . what happened??? Hadji is nothing like that, now!"

"No, he's not. Actually, I'm not sure he ever really was. Oh, he has a sense of humor, that's certain, but not the broad, slapstick sort of thing he used to display. Before Hadji came to us, he survived as a street performer in Calcutta. He was a snake charmer, mainly, although he did tricks, too. _And_ he was an incredibly talented little thief. Pasha kept an eye on him as best he could, but that was about it. I guess what it came down to was that Hadji felt that Benton had picked him up off the street because he was looking for a companion for Jonny . . . someone that would keep him entertained . . . and that any bright, outgoing kid would have sufficed. And since the street performer was what Benton first saw, that's what Hadji figured he wanted. He was determined to keep up the façade so that he wouldn't be sent back to Calcutta. I have no doubt that Pasha reinforced that idea, too."

"So he was trying to be 'on' all the time," Estella said thoughtfully.

"Yes," Race agreed. "And eventually it began to take its toll." Race smiled. "I remember the night Benton realized what was going on. As usual, we were traveling, and for several days we'd been noticing that Hadji had seemed very quiet and withdrawn in the evenings. Not at all his usual self. Plus, he seemed absolutely exhausted most of the time. That evening after dinner, Jonny had run off to play with a group of local kids and Hadji had stayed behind. By this time, Benton was seriously concerned. He sat down to talk with the boy, and when Hadji realized that Benton was worried because he wasn't going with Jonny, he jumped up, totally prepared to run off and join them. Suddenly, just that quickly, he seemed like the boy we thought we knew. But Benton wouldn't let him go. He kept after him . . . What was wrong? Was he afraid? Did he feel sick? And, finally, he told him that he didn't have to go play with Jonny if he didn't want to, and asked him what it was he _wanted_ to do. You could see the boy searching for the answer he thought Benton wanted to hear, and getting more and more upset when he couldn't seem to find it. Finally, the boy broke down and started to cry. He was downright panicky. Hadji begged Benton not to send him back to India . . . that he would do anything or be anyone Benton wanted him to be if only he could stay.

"Benton looked downright shaken. He picked Hadji up and cuddled him, making these soft, soothing noises and just rocked him for a long time. When Hadji finally began to calm down a little bit, Benton asked him if he understood what the word 'adopted' meant. Hadji's response was that it meant that he could live with us until he did something wrong and then he'd have to go back." Race shook his head again. "His English was always so good. It never dawned on either of us that when Benton told the boy that he'd adopted him, he didn't understand what that meant."

"How old was he then?" Estella asked softly.

"About eight, I think," Race replied after some thought. "Give or take. See, we never knew when his birthday was or when he was born. During the adoption proceedings, we found absolutely no records on him at all, and he had no memories of his past. When we questioned Pasha on where the boy came from, he claimed not to know . . . said he found him in the streets of Calcutta and that he liked the boy so he let him hang around. It was only much later, after Hadji tried to force memories of his past with Benton's experimental memory gear, that we discovered the truth.

"At any rate, Benton told him that he would _never_ have to go back to India if he didn't want to . . . that Hadji was his son, just like Jonny was, and that Benton would never let anyone take him away. He also told Hadji that he could be and do anything he wanted . . . that the only thing Benton wouldn't tolerate was Hadji doing something because he thought that's what Benton wanted. The boy just stared at him with these huge, dark eyes like he was waiting for Benton to tell him what price he was going to have to pay to have all of this." Race gazed vacantly into space for a minute and then shook his head sadly. "It was absolutely heartbreaking, Stel. No child of that age should have that look. Eventually, Hadji realized that Benton really wasn't going to demand anything of him in return and then he started to cry again. It took a long time for Benton to get out of him that no one had ever offered him anything without wanting something in return and that the boy simply didn't know how to react.

"For the next several weeks, Hadji became incredibly clingy . . . seemed to have a desperate need to be with Benton all the time." Race sighed. "I don't know how he did it, Stel. I didn't realize it at the time, but he was so spent . . . so close to the breaking point, I just don't know where the strength came from to provide the emotional support that child needed. But somehow, he found it. After a time, Hadji improved. A couple of weeks later, once he seemed a bit more steady, Benton asked him again what it was he really wanted, and hesitantly, Hadji told him that he wanted to learn . . . things from books and about how the world worked . . . things like what made the sky blue. Benton told him that he would teach him anything he wanted to know.

"From that day on, Hadji was different. The façade dropped away and he seemed to relax. Oh, he and Jonny were as close as ever, but the dynamic between them changed. They still got into trouble, but Hadji became more introspective . . . more of a moderating influence. He also started to read voraciously and seemed to absorb everything around him. He'd spend hours with Benton; fascinated with anything he was working on. And anything the boy showed an interest in, Benton saw to it he had the opportunity to learn . . . even if it meant hiring specialized teachers. It was good for Jonny, too, because what one boy was taught, the other learned as well. It was like they were attached at the hip and Hadji's interest in something always seemed to rub off. Benton was positively delighted. Things like languages . . . Hadji's interest is the main reason that Jonny is fluent in about eight languages. He never showed much interest until Hadji did, and then both of them absorbed them like a sponge.

"That was the start of the young man we know today. A different man probably never would have been able to convince that jaded little boy that he was telling him the truth. But there's something about Benton that engenders that trust and he seems good at collecting people around him that need that nurturing. God knows, I needed it."

"So did Jessie," Estella agreed. "Our divorce had been hard on her. Plus, I was always in the field, and when I simply couldn't take her with me, I was forced to leave her with Mother. It took a while for me to realize that when I did that, Mother spent the entire time trying to turn Jessie against you. She would return from stays there silent and withdrawn and it took me a long time to find out what was going on." Race made an angry sound, and Estella came over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know. As soon as I realized what she was doing, I refused to send her there any longer. About that time, you approached me about having her come stay here with you half the year. I was boxed into a corner. I couldn't send her to Mother, but I also couldn't take her with me into some of the more remote places my funding agencies were forcing me to go. So, finally, I agreed. When she first started coming here, and she fit in so effortlessly, I will admit that I was jealous. She was so happy and loved it here so much, it was all I could do not to try to stop her from coming. She seemed to be drifting away, and it scared me.

"It took the lot of you coming to my dig site in Colombia that summer she was 14 for me to really see how good it was for her to be part of what Benton offered. There were so many things that impressed me: the interaction with Jonny and Hadji who were kids her own age, the intellectual environment that stimulated her curiosity, the way Benton included her in everything he did, how he respected her intelligence and worked actively to foster it, and how hard he worked to save her when she got that ancient Malenque plague." She paused, looked at him seriously. "And there was another thing . . ."

"What?" he asked softly.

Her response was slow in coming. "There was you. You had changed in some way I couldn't seem to put my finger on. You weren't as distant. Oh, I don't mean with Jessie . . . you were never distant with her, even when things were at their worst. No, it was a change with others . . . including me." She flashed him a look. "I . . . I have to admit . . . you really shook me in the mine that day."

He seemed to know immediately what she meant. "You mean when I suggested that maybe we should get married again?"

"Yes."

"I meant it, you know."

"I know that now. I didn't then. I thought you were kidding. But . . . but there was an openness about you . . . a sensitivity . . . that I'd never seen before. And it was strong enough that I responded to it without even understanding what it was. And when I finally recognized that change, I couldn't do anything but what I did. No matter how hard it was to let her go, I couldn't deny her the opportunity to be part of all of that. It still wasn't easy, but the difference it made was more than worth it."

Race nodded. "That's Benton. And now, he's collected another one."

"What do you mean?"

"Kefira. That girl was struggling, too. She told Benton as much the other morning. And she's found a place here, as well. You weren't there in the study that morning before our wedding." He told her about Kefira taking the gun from the storage case. "That was the most bizarre thing. You would have thought that she had been brought up in this house all of her life. She and Jess moved like a well-oiled machine . . . enough so that it seriously shook Commander Barclay. He didn't know what to think. And Bennett gave me credit for training _both_ of them."

Estella nodded. "I know exactly what you mean. Jessie told me that the same sort of thing happened when the two of them were under attack in the van. Jessie's just delighted about it. She commented to me that it's almost like having a sister. They seem to operate on the same wavelength."

"Just like Jonny and Hadji do," Race agreed. "But again, I think that's fostered by Benton." Race sighed. "I was telling Bennett the other night that I wished he could get by Rachel's death. It would be nice to see him lay some of those old ghosts to rest."

"Maybe he has. That business with Jonny yesterday afternoon really shook him. Something definitely happened to him after that. Maybe he did finally see the truth."

"Only time will tell." Race straightened. "What do you say we go find Benton and see if we can figure out exactly what it is Leeds was trying to accomplish with this little visit?"

Estella moved to join him and allowed Race to tuck her against his side. "Whatever it was, I still bet nothing good will come of it . . ."

  


* * * * *

  


Leeds had barely turned onto Route 1 before he had his cell phone out and was dialing. The phone rang twice and then a familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

"It's done. You'd better be right about this. Now what?"

"Now, you wait." Then the line went dead.

  


* * * * *

  


**

Baxter's Lair, Portsmouth

**

Richard Baxter was perusing the annual financial reports for his far-flung empire when a knock on the door of his office in the Portland complex caused him to look up. With a frown, he growled, "What is it?"

The door opened hesitantly and a young man in a suit stuck his head in the door. The man's tentative movements and obvious fear further irritated Baxter. "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir . . ."

"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed!"

"Yes, sir. I know, sir. And I truly am sorry . . ."

Baxter was seized by an almost uncontrollable urge to grab the man and smash him against a nearby wall. He laid the papers he had been holding down onto the table and placed both hands flat on the desk, as though readying himself to rise. _"What . . . do . . . you . . . want???_ he grated.

"The phone," the man stammered in fear. "The girl . . . I mean . . . the call . . . the one you've been waiting for . . . on the phone . . ."

Baxter froze, halfway to his feet, and demanded sharply, "The Hamilton girl?"

"Yes," the young man in the suit whispered, and gestured toward the instrument sitting on the desk with a shaking hand.

"Get out," Baxter snapped, sitting back down and reaching for the receiver. "No, wait . . . Edgerton . . . go find Edgerton and his friends and send them to me immediately." But when he looked up, the young man had already disappeared. Baxter brought his hand down on the desk with a resounding slap, venting his irritation. He was surrounded by sheep! Before picking up the phone, he hit an intercom button and demanded that someone find Edgerton and send him to his office. Then, he turned back to the phone. Picking up the receiver, he demanded,

"Well?"

"It's done," Francesca's voice replied confidently.

"Excellent," Baxter replied, immediately in a better humor.

"So what happens next?"

"Now we get what we want from Quest."

"Yes, yes, I know," she replied impatiently. "But how are you going to do that? And what are you after?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Look, Baxter," Francesca said belligerently, "you told me that if I got this done there'd be a place for me in your organization. I took you at your word, and I did what you wanted. But _I'm_ the one that's sitting at ground zero here. I at least deserve to know what to expect."

A fleeting grin crossed Baxter's face. Say what you would about this young woman, she was not a sheep. She had fire and nerve and it appealed to him that she didn't back down when she wanted something. After a moment's thought, he replied, "We're getting ready to go after something at the Quest Compound. I'm told that the codes you inputted into their computers will allow us to bypass their computer security and get us into their mainframe." Baxter leaned back in his chair, suddenly feeling talkative. "Personally, I have my doubts that it will work. Or, if it does, that it will be worth the trouble. But Edgerton's convinced, so I'm letting it play out to see if he can pull it off."

"Edgerton," Francesca said in disgust. "It figures."

"Now, now, my dear," Baxter replied in amusement. "He's a top notch research scientist."

Francesca snorted. "Maybe. But he loves to take the round about way in everything. If those codes will get you into their mainframe, why don't you just shut down their security and take the place by force? It would be a lot simpler."

"I would lose a lot more men that way," Baxter pointed out.

"Since when has _that_ worried you?"

Baxter laughed outright. "True. I like you Francesca. You should be grateful your old man is gone. He held you back. With him out of the way, there is a whole new future opening up for you. You're going to make a good addition to my organization."

There was a startled pause, and then she replied, "Well . . . I'm glad you're pleased. I appreciate the opportunity to prove myself."

"You're doing fine so far."

Another long pause ensued and then, as though making a decision, Francesca said, "Mr. Baxter, I think there's something you should know . . . just so our new association gets off to the correct start . . ."

"Yes?"

"I didn't come back to Maine by choice."

Baxter sat forward, frowning suddenly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was planted here."

"By whom?"

"A government man. He sprung me from that place in Egypt and brought me back here for one specific purpose . . . to lure you into a trap."

Baxter's genial tone was gone as he replied, "Who is this man?"

"An intelligence agent by the name of Leeds."

"Him again!" Baxter swore. "That man has been a thorn in my side for years. But why approach you? What made him think you had any connection with me?"

"I have no idea. He just turned up in my cell one day and offered me this deal. He'd get me out of jail and back to the States. In return, I'd have to set up in Rockport and work my way in with the Quest crowd again. He seemed to be certain that once you knew I was there, that you would contact me again and that I was to let him know once I knew what you were planning."

"And have you?" Baxter asked ominously.

Baxter heard the laughter in her voice as she replied, "Well, yes and no."

"What, exactly, does that mean?"

"He knows you've contacted me. And he knows what you wanted me to do. What he doesn't know is that I've told you about him and that I have every intention of setting him up so you can take him out."

"And why would you want to do that?" Baxter demanded in anger. "What kind of game are you playing at, you devious little shrew?"

Francesca's voice turned ugly. "Listen, Baxter, no one plays me for the fool. My deal with Leeds was very simple. He got me and my father out of Egypt and I'd play the patsy for him with the Quests."

"Your father's dead," Baxter said flatly.

"Yes, and that bastard knew it before he ever approached me. I won't be used, Baxter, you understand me? I'll work for you and I'll do what you ask. And I'll do it better than anyone else will, but you sure as hell better be straight with me. You yank my chain and I'll turn around and bite you."

Across the room, the door opened without warning and Edgerton, Julia and Lorenzo walked in. Baxter eyed the three of them as he thought about Francesca's words. Finally, he answered evenly. "Fair enough. What is your position at the moment? Are you secure? How long before the Quests realize what you've done?"

Francesca laughed. "You take out Leeds and they'll never know. Two can play that man's game. I didn't input those codes . . . he did. There's no way to connect me to it, unless Leeds tells them where he got them. And he's not going to do that . . . he's too scared of Bannon."

"He's associated with Bannon?" Baxter demanded sharply.

"I think he used to be. But there's bad blood between them now. You can tell it. Leeds hates him. **And** I think he's got the hots for Bannon's daughter . . . a fact that would get Leeds very dead if her father found out about it. So unless he gets backed into a corner, he's not going to tell the Quests. And before he reaches that point, I trust you can get rid of him for me. Call it a gesture of good faith to seal our partnership. I'll give you the access to the Quest Compound and help you get whatever it is you want from there, and in return, you get rid of Leeds for me. You just tell me when and where you want him, and I'll see he's there. Deal?"

Baxter leaned back in his chair again and a slow smile formed. "We have a deal, Ms. Hamilton. For now, I want you to lie low. I'll contact you again once the present operation is completed and I know where we stand. How do I reach you?" Francesca rattled off a telephone number, which he quickly jotted down on a pad in front of him. "Very good. Don't do anything else until you hear from me. I should get back to you within 24 hours."

"I'll be waiting."

"Oh, and Francesca . . ."

"Yes?"

"Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir."

Baxter set the receiver back into the cradle and smiled tightly at Edgerton. "It's done. Now we see if your little plan will work."

"What was that all about?" Edgerton demanded.

"Francesca Hamilton passing on the word that she's kept her end of the deal."

"You can't trust that girl," Julia stated flatly.

"On the contrary," Baxter replied in a hard voice. "Francesca Hamilton is very predictable. She is a highly practical young lady, and she always acts in her own best interests . . . a motive I can easily understand. You see that she benefits from any mutual arrangement, and you can trust her explicitly. Cross her and . . . " Baxter gestured vaguely with an unpleasant smile. "Well, let's say that the results are less predictable . . . as an old enemy is just about to find out." Baxter sat forward abruptly. "How soon can we start?"

"A couple of hours," Julia replied. "The codes are designed with a lag time built in so that you can get clear if necessary. Once they begin to function, they will create a shielded breach in their computer security and send us a message saying the opening has been established."

"Their computer systems are off line," Edgerton warned. "We've been monitoring them and everything is down."

"There's a net detect agent as part of the program that Hamilton has triggered. When it finds the system offline, it will bring it back live. It will also suppress any system warnings so that the Quest's aren't warned as it goes back online." Julia smiled unpleasantly. "Don't worry, Mr. Baxter, it won't be long now . . ."

  


* * * * *

  


**

Quest Compound  
Lighthouse Laboratory  
QuestWorld  


**

Hadji glared at the results of the virus scan in disgust. "It is still detectable."

Jonny grunted as he arched his back and rotated his healing shoulder gingerly. "It's good enough," he replied.

"No, it is not," Hadji insisted. "We will only have one chance at this. We cannot risk having the virus detected and stopped before it accomplishes its purpose."

Jonny turned and looked at his brother for a long moment. "Hadji, the only program in the world that will be able to detect this thing is the one you wrote, and that's only because you know _exactly_ how to program the thing to find it. No generic program out there is gonna see it."

"But . . ."

"Look at it this way," he said reasonably. "Do you really want a program as deadly as this one to be so cleverly disguised that even your _own_ virus detection program can't spot it? Trust me, it's good enough. What's more important now is getting the thing securely tagged onto dad's files on the evaluation of Payson's work."

"He's got a point, Hadji," Jessie agreed, crossing the room to massage Jonny's neck and shoulder gently. After lunch, the two young women had decided to remain in the lighthouse, and had spent the early afternoon working with Jonny and Hadji to complete the work on the virus program. It was now moving toward late afternoon.

Kefira, who had been sitting next to Hadji at the computer console, rose and began to mimic Jessie's actions as she gazed over his shoulder at the results of the scan. "I believe they are right, beloved," Kefira said after a moment. "The code is so detailed and specific, the likelihood of any other detection software being out there with that exact sequence is highly improbable."

Neither Hadji nor Kefira caught the look that flashed between Jessie and Jonny at Kefira's words. The afternoon the four of them had spent working together in the lighthouse had dissolved the last of the walls between them. Kefira had melded herself into the rapport that existed between the three young people effortlessly, until it almost seemed as though she had always been part of their group. As a result, the feelings between Hadji and Kefira were no longer kept shielded from their friends. Kefira spoke to him lovingly and without thought in Jonny and Jessie's presence, and Hadji responded in kind.

"Perhaps you are right," Hadji said with a sigh, closing his eyes and relaxing under her hands. He leaned forward and laid his forehead against his hands on the console in front of him, allowing her to work her way down to the small of his back. After a moment, he sighed contentedly and added, "You will put me to sleep if you keep this up, my love."

"You're gonna have to teach me to do that," Jessie commented, watching Kefira closely.

Jonny looked up at her in surprise. "You do just fine."

"Not to say that I can't learn to do it better," she replied with a smile and leaned over to kiss him quickly.

Kefira laughed. "I will teach you. I am finding that my mother was right . . . it is a useful skill to know."

Hadji's murmured reply was totally unintelligible. Sitting up abruptly, Jonny leaned over and smacked his brother on the shoulder. "Don't do that! I want to get this finished. I'm gonna run over to the house and see where Dad is with the file we're supposed to attach this to. I'll be right back."

"'Kay," Hadji mumbled sleepily. "You can wake me when you get back."

"Uh uh. No way. You fall asleep now and you'll never wake up again. Come on, you can come with me. Some fresh air will do us both some good." The two women laughed and stepped back as Jonny forcibly hauled Hadji up out of his chair. "Wake up! Don't you know, true love isn't supposed to put you to sleep?"

"Hmmm," Hadji replied, stumbling upright. He stretched and then gave his brother a slow, decidedly evil, grin. "That depends on what you were doing right before you got sleepy, does it not?" Jonny blinked at him. "Well, how long were you able to stay awake after . . ."

"Hadji!" Jessie gasped as Jonny turned a bright crimson.

Kefira looked from one to the other and then started to grin as the implication became clear to her. "Ah, I see. You know, I have wondered about that . . ."

"Oh, man, I just **knew** I was gonna regret admitting to this," Jonny muttered darkly.

"Well, why did you?" Jessie demanded.

"He didn't give me a choice!"

Jessie looked at the grinning couple. "We are going to be seriously abused about this, aren't we?"

"Yes," Kefira replied without hesitation.

"Absolutely," Hadji agreed firmly. "It is what friends are for."

"Yeah, well just remember one thing," Jonny warned. "We will file away everything you say or do until the day when you two are in the same position."

"We never said a word about positions," Kefira replied innocently. "That is between you and Jessie."

Hadji began to laugh uncontrollably and Jonny grabbed him by the shirt and began dragging him toward the door. "Okay, okay. Come on, let's go up to the house. Jeez, Hadj, pull yourself together . . . "

Wiping tears from his eyes, Hadji grabbed his coat and followed his brother out the door. "Oh, Jonny, if you could have seen your face . . ."

Both Jessie and Kefira laughed, listening to the two brothers bicker amiably as they descended the stairs. As Jessie turned to look at Kefira, she saw the other girl's grin fade. Hesitantly, she said, "Jessie, I am sorry. Perhaps we should not . . ."

Jessie waved negligently. "Forget it. I knew the instant that Jonny told me Hadji had gotten him to tell him about the advancement of our relationship that we would never hear the end of it. Those two are way too close not to expect them to give each other grief." She looked at the other girl seriously. "Do me a favor, though, would ya? Our parents don't know about this and we want to keep it that way for now. So be careful what you say around them, okay?"

Kefira nodded. "I understand." She glanced over at the computer console and then nodded at the monitor with a troubled expression. "That is a very dangerous program."

"Yeah, it is, "Jessie agreed. "But it should do the trick if we can get it into Baxter's system."

"I just hope that it is controllable once it is turned loose."

"We should be okay. It's based on the same bug that Hadji wrote as a safeguard for the systems here at the Compound, right?"

Kefira nodded. "That is what he said he was going to do."

"Well, then, I think we should be okay because that one has a burnout loop. I doubt he eliminated that during his modifications."

"A burnout loop?"

"Well, I don't know if that's the proper term or not, but essentially it is a check on the program that prevents it from spreading beyond a certain point. The virus will infect a system with a base set of signature codes and will spread rapidly through that system, but when it reaches the point where it doesn't find those signature codes any longer it will burn itself out. That's how he designed it to ensure it would destroy QuestWorld if the system ended up compromised."

"Yes, but that sounds like the same codes that prevented it from being transmitted, and that he had to change."

Jessie frowned. "You may be right about that," she said slowly.

"As deadly as this is, I would not want to see it get out of hand."

"No, neither would I," Jessie agreed. "Maybe we should ask him when he . . ."

A chime suddenly interrupted her and IRIS announced. "ACKNOWLEDGING OVERRIDE CODES. ACCESS TO QUESTWORLD CONFIRMED. PLEASE SPECIFIY PROGRAM."

"IRIS, what are you _doing_?" Jessie demanded, throwing herself into the nearby chair and attacking the keyboard frantically. 

"SECURITY VIOLATION DETECTED. UNABLE TO EXECUTE SPECIFIED PROGRAM."

"Oh shit! The system's back online! IRIS, _**stop!!!!**_ Shutdown QuestWorld and reisolate the mainframe."

ACKNOWLEDGING BYPASS CODE. STANDING BY FOR INPUT."

"IRIS, **abort**! Priority shutdown!" Jessie looked up at Kefira in desperation. "Nothing! She's not responding to any command I try to input!"

"ACKNOWLEDGING ADDED CODE. APPEND COMPLETE. RECOMPILE COMMENCING. ANTICIPATED COMPLETION TIME TWO MINUTES."

Kefira joined Jessie at the console, staring fixedly at the code scrolling by on the screen.

"What program is this?" Kefira demanded.

"PROGRAM THOUGHTSCAPE RECOMPILE IS NOW COMPLETE. LAUNCHING PROGRAM. QUESTWORLD LOGON, SUBJECTS JULIA CANOVA, JEREMIAH SURD AND RICHARD BAXTER. GOING HOT . . ."

_**"IRIS, NO!!!!!!! STOP!!!!!"**_Jessie screamed frantically, but again the computer system refused to respond.

"But how can she be doing that? You had it password protected!" Kefira demanded, watching as Jessie worked frantically to try to shut down the system again.

"It was Surd's program. He must have had some kind of back door into it that was able to bypass the security I put on it. She also added code and recompiled it. I have no idea what she's done. I just know that I can't let them get to him. If they free him from that program we're in a whole lot of trouble!"

"What about Hadji's program? Can we transmit it somehow?"

"It's not ready. If we try to send it, it will be spotted immediately. Call the house! Make sure they know what's going on and get them back here . . . **QUICK**."

Kefira snatched up the phone from the console and began dialing the house. As she did so, she demanded, "IRIS, can we still logon to QuestWorld?" 

"AFFIRMATIVE. ACCESS TO QUESTWORLD IS AVAILABLE."

"Then we must go in after them."

"You're right," Jessie agreed immediately. "I'll go while you . . ."

"You cannot go in there alone!" Kefira said sharply. "The system says there are three entities in that program. One on three is not good odds . . . particularly if you are right and the program can inflict physical harm."

"I don't have a choice!" Jessie snapped. "We can't wait for Jonny and Hadji to get back and you have to stay out here and monitor."

"No!" Kefira replied with equal force. "I do not know the system well enough to be able to monitor, but I can be of assistance in defense from inside. Jonny and Hadji will be back quickly enough. It is our only choice. Mrs. Evans? Mrs. Evans, I need to talk to Jonny or Hadji immediately. It is very urgent! . . . set up the system to log us both in . . . "

"This is not a good idea . . . "Jessie muttered, working quickly. "Hadji is gonna kill me if something happens to you."

"My choice!" Kefira snapped. "Jonny? Come quickly. Somehow Julia has accessed the system. She is in QuestWorld right now, going after Jeremiah Surd. I don't _know_ how she got in. It does not matter. She is in . . . that is all that is important."

"We're set, Kefira! If you're coming, we have to go **NOW**!" Jessie said forcefully, moving quickly for the access chairs. Picking up a headset, she tossed it at Kefira and began donning her own.

"Jonny, Jessie and I are going into QuestWorld after Julia. Get here as quickly as you can." Even from across the room, Jessie could hear Jonny's wildly screamed _**"NO!!!!!!!"**_ just before Kefira hung up the phone. She slapped the headset on as she crossed the room at a run and flung herself into the chair next to Jessie's.

"Kefira, I really don't think it's a good idea for you to come along . . ."

Cutting her off swiftly, Kefira called out, "IRIS, remote access, please. QuestWorld logon . . . subjects Kefira Subramanian and Jessie Bannon."

"REMOTE ACCESS ACKNOWLEDGED. QUESTWORLD LOGON . . . GOING HOT . . ."

  


* * * * *

  


**_"NO!!!!!!!"_** Jonny screamed wildly. "Kefira, don't . . . " But the line had already gone dead. He whirled to stare at the others in fear. "The system's come back online somehow and Julia's gotten into it and is going after Surd. Kefira and Jessie are going in after them!"

"No!" Estella gasped. "They can't!"

"But how?" Bennett demanded. "You said it was offline!"

"It does not matter how," Hadji said grimly, unconsciously echoing Kefira. "All that matters is that it has happened and we are not ready."

Benton turned back to the computer terminal he had been working at and typed quickly. "The entire system's connected and live again." He saved the file he had been working on and shifted it to a common drive quickly. "Come on, let's go!" Benton snapped. "We've got to get to the lab!" With Bennett in hot pursuit, the entire family left at a run. 

  


* * * * *

  


The fluorescent green and black tunnel spat Jessie and Kefira out into the middle of a maelstrom. Roiling violet/pink surrounded them, jagged bolts of lightening lashed out violently, and the din was unbelievable. Both began to tumble downward at a frightening speed the instant they materialized within the program.

**"HOVERBOARDS!!!!"** they screamed simultaneously. The requested items materialized a short way below them and both landed on them with jarring force.

"What has happened?" Kefira gasped. "How did we get into the program without coming through the gateway and having to give the access codes?"

Jessie looked around grimly. "Julia's been altering the programming. Somehow, she's found a way to rebuild the program. That probably means that not only has she taken out my security, but the original traps are probably operational again. Kefira, you can't be in here! You don't have enough experience . . ."

"I will not go back!"

"You have to! This program's purpose was to kill! I never should have allowed you to enter it at all. IRIS, log Kefira out **now**!" But there was no response. "IRIS?"

"I do not believe we have a choice any longer," Kefira told Jessie. "Our only option is to go forward. So let us go find our enemies and end this." With that, she shot off down the stormy tunnel.

With a deep sense of foreboding, Jessie took off after her. "Hadji, where are you?" she muttered. "Your 'beloved' needs you right now!"

  


* * * * *

  


Jonny, Hadji, Benton, Race, Estella and Bennett erupted into the lab. An alarm immediately began to sound loudly and IRIS said, "WARNING! UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL DETECTED IN LEVEL ONE SECURITY AREA. INDIVIDUAL HAS FIVE SECONDS TO VACATE THE PREMISES BEFORE SECURITY MEASURES WILL BE IMPLEMENTED."

Bennett immediately dropped to the floor and rolled, knowing even as he did so that it was futile. Nothing he did would allow him to avoid the precision targeting of the Quest's defensive systems. But a split second before they began firing, Race Bannon's voice cut across the warning alarm.

"Security override! Bannon-mark 7 authorization code 372. HOLD!"

The audible alarm stopped and IRIS replied sedately, "HOLDING."

"Reset access for Bennett, Charles Donald, Admiral, United States Navy and Commander of U.S. Military Forces."

"SPECIFY TYPE OF ACCESS."

"General for all levels. Notify a primary family member if detected in high level security areas without escort."

"DURATION?"

"Until further notice."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. ACCESS RESET."

"Where are we?" Race demanded, turning from Bennett to peer over the shoulders of Jonny, Benton and Hadji, who were now working feverishly at keyboards. "Why isn't the monitor working? Where are they?"

"The entire system seems to be in a lockout," Benton replied grimly. "They've shut us out so that we can't help them."

"Yeah, but Surd's done this before," Jonny said, "and we've said he always used his tricks over and over. Hadji, what about the one he used the time we were trapped in MegaQuest? Julia's good, but she isn't as good as Surd. She couldn't have developed her own lockout. She's gotta be using one of the systems that Surd had written . . . probably the same one that was on it before. You cracked that one last time. Let's find out if you can do it again."

"I am on it!" Hadji replied, working frantically.

Estella and Bennett watched the three of them in stunned amazement. Two or three word phrases between them seemed to communicate entire conversations. The three of them worked in tandem in a way that neither of the newcomers had ever seen before. Race tore is eyes away and glanced at his wife and former boss.

"Almost frightening, isn't it?" he asked with a weak chuckle.

"How do they do that?" Bennett asked in fascination.

Race shrugged. "ESP? Who knows. But they've always been able to do it . . . ever since the kids were old enough to work on computers. Put them together working on a common problem, particularly if they are under a deadline of some sort, and the three of them just click." He looked over at his wife. "What's really unsettling is to watch Jessie plug into the flow."

"She can do this?" Estella asked in amazement.

"From about the third day she started actively working with Ben . . ."

Their voices were suddenly drowned out by a roaring that sounded like the worst thunderstorm anyone could possibly imagine. With a brilliant flash, the huge wall monitor flared to life showing the violent violet/pink storm.

"Got it!" Hadji yelled over the din.

"What is that?" Estella yelled in horror.

"Damp the sound, Hadji," Benton yelled.

"I cannot! It is this or nothing. I was able to get in, but I have no control over anything . . ."

"They're back in Surd's program again!" Jonny screamed. "That's the gateway . . . "

Suddenly, the two girls flashed onto the screen, moving at high speed on hoverboards. Through the din, they all heard Jessie.

_"Hadji, where are you? "Your 'beloved' needs you right now!"_

"Jessie! Kefira! Can you hear me?" Hadji yelled into the console mike. But neither girl responded. The members of the Quest family could see and hear, but they were powerless to do anything to help.

  


* * * * *

  


Catching up with Kefira, Jessie dropped down beside her and yelled over the tumult, "We need a plan!"

"You know the program. What do you suggest?" A sudden slash of lightening right next to her threw Kefira from the hoverboard with a scream. Jessie darted down and was able to get under her. Kefira hit the hoverboard on her side and lay draped across one end, partially stunned, as Jessie clutched at her desperately and tried to keep both of them from being flung off into the storm. With difficulty, Kefira regained her feet and stared at Jessie grimly. "That hurt . . . " she said unsteadily and Jessie saw that her QuestWorld garments showed a long scorched mark down her right side.

Back in the lab, Bennett turned from the scene and strode across to the two girls in the couches. Reaching around, he carefully inspected Kefira's side.

"Good Lord!" he said, backing away abruptly, looking sick. His right hand clutched scraps of charred clothing. "She bleeding! What the hell is going on here?!?"

Benton swore viciously. "That goddamned son-of-a-bitch . . . the 'death' module that Surd built into the program has been reactivated. If they are hurt in there, it will be transferred to their physical bodies here!" He gestured toward the cabinet on a nearby wall without looking up. "There's a first aid kit over there, Admiral. Can you tend to her?"

Back in QuestWorld, Jessie replied, "The program is trying to defend itself against us. It did this to Dr. Quest and Jonny, too." Above them, Jessie could see Kefira's hoverboard. It hung stationary, not yet having been destroyed by the turmoil around them. Jessie sent her board spiraling upward again and as they approached it, Kefira made the leap and mounted it again.

"We must get out of here," Kefira yelled over the turmoil, sending the hoverboard sailing forward again. "What can we expect next?"

"I don't know. The program's changed . . . it's not acting the way it did the first time. So Julia's hasn't been able to rebuild everything."

"The images we saw the last time we were here . . . what were those?"

"Surd unleashed Jonny and Dr. Quest's deepest fears against them . . . Dr. Quest's fear that he failed his family, and Jonny's fear that he's a disappointment to his dad. It was designed to play head games with them and break their will to fight. Those were the images you saw . . ."

Without warning, the two erupted from the violence of the tunnel into the dreary gray/black of the abyss. They could see the path below them again, looking even more decayed and poisonous than the last time. The sudden silence was profound after the noise of the initial passage.

Jessie peered into the gloom. "We should be able to see the castle from here. Where is it?"

"I do not know, but we need weapons if we are going to be expected to fight."

"IRIS, power swords and shields," Jessie demanded. Again, there was no response. "Hadji? Jonny? Are you there?" Nothing. Jessie looked over at Kefira. "We are in serious trouble."

"Power swords and shields?" Estella demanded, sounding angry. "This isn't some computer game! Give them something useful, IRIS . . . like pistols or something!"

Unbelievably, a pair of pistols materialized directly in front of the two women. Jessie blinked in astonishment and fumbled to grab the weapon before it fell into the emptiness below them.

"It is loaded and appears to be ready to work!" Kefira said, examining hers closely.

"But where did it come from?" Jessie demanded suspiciously. "Something really weird is going on here."

"How did you do that?" Benton demanded of Estella.

"I have no idea!"

"Jessie, can you hear me?" Jonny demanded, but again it appeared the two couldn't hear him.

"IRIS, can you tell us what's going on?" Race asked.

"THE PROGRAM APPEARS TO BE FUNCTIONING WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS."

"What parameters?" Race demanded.

"UNABLE TO SPECIFY. THE PROGRAM HAD BEEN BADLY DISRUPTED BEFORE JESSIE BANNON STABLIZED IT. WHEN THE RECONSTRUCT SEQUENCE WAS ENABLED, THE PROGRAM RECOMPILED. HOWEVER, LARGE PORTIONS OF IT HAD BEEN DESTROYED. THE RECOMPILING PROGRAM TAPPED OTHER SOURCES TO COMPLETE THE REBUILD, SO IT IS NOT THE SAME AS IT WAS IN ORIGINAL FORMAT. IT IS NOT POSSIBLE TO PREDICT EXACTLY HOW IT WILL FUNCTION."

"You're saying that even Julia can't predict how it will work?" Estella questioned.

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Here they come, Jessie!" Kefira said urgently, staring up the road. "Whatever 'they' are . . ."

Jessie followed her gaze and spotted ranks of what appeared to be soldiers marching toward them along the road. They were black and faceless with glowing red eyes. Their shape could be discerned because each one seemed to be surrounded by a fiery red glow. They appeared to be armed with pikes. "The stained glass window soldiers," Jessie identified quickly. "They were stained glass portraits in Surd's castle that he brought to life." The one in the lead suddenly stopped and pointed his pike at the two women. From the end of it, a bolt of energy shot out at them. **"YEOW!"** Jessie exclaimed as the two of them shot in opposite directions attempting to evade the bolt. "They couldn't do that before!"

Kefira brought the pistol to bear and fired. The bullet struck their attacker square in the chest and he shattered into a million pieces. Jubilation turned to horror, however as they watched each shattered piece grow into a new soldier. "How do we fight what cannot be destroyed?" she demanded in frustrated anger. The remaining soldiers raised their pikes and all of them began firing at the two women. Both continued to fight valiantly, darting and weaving on the hoverboards in an attempt to avoid being struck by the energy bolts.

"We have to do something!" Jonny said frantically. "They can't keep that up . . . they're going to be overwhelmed!"

As Estella watched the battle, she had been thinking desperately. Suddenly, her eyes widened as a thought struck her. She leaned in over Jonny's shoulder and said urgently, "A flamethrower! Give them a flamethrower! If those soldiers were originally conceived as "glass" maybe if they are melted it will truly destroy them."

"But how do we get IRIS to provide it?" Jonny demanded in frustration. "She isn't responding to commands!"

"Look!" Bennett interjected sharply, pointing at the monitor. As one, they all stared as a flamethrower materialized directly in front of Jessie. She only paused for a flicker of an instant before she snatched it up and aimed it at the advancing soldiers. The characteristic roar of the device as it began to belch flame was clear in the relative quiet.

"That is handy," Kefira said as the glass figures began to melt under the force of the heat. She ducked reflexively as one of the soldiers shot at her. "Beloved, if that is you out there providing us with these items, you might consider providing some type of energy shield, as well." A second bolt struck even closer to her than before, almost throwing her from her hoverboard. "It would be very useful right now . . ."

"I cannot . . . "Hadji snarled, but stopped as the requested item materialized almost in her hands.

"Thank you, my love," Kefira said, sliding one arm into it quickly and promptly deflecting three separate bolts that otherwise would have struck her squarely.

"How did you do that?" Jonny demanded of his brother.

"I did not do anything! What is happening?"

With sudden understanding, Benton shot to his feet and dragged Estella over and shoved her into his chair. "It's not responding to **us**! It is responding to Estella and Kefira. Somehow, Julia's managed to block those of us who have been in the program before. But she didn't bargain on Estella and Kefira. They can make it respond where we can't!"

Estella leaned over to the mike and called urgently, "Jessie! Kefira! Can you hear me?"

Jessie's head snapped up immediately, as she seemed to look around her. "Mom? Is that you? Where's Jonny?"

"He's here. There's no time to explain, but for some reason, IRIS won't respond to commands from anyone but Kefira and me. When you need something, _**Kefira**_ has to make the request for it."

"Got it!"

"IRIS, another energy shield . . . quickly!" Kefira snapped.

"And a couple of power swords!" Jessie called to Kefira as she wielded the flamethrower at the glass soldiers again.

"And two energy swords!" Kefira confirmed and watched with satisfaction as the requested items materialized. She snatched one and tossed it to Jessie before grasping the second one. "Now we have a chance!"

"Let's do it!" as both women turned on their attackers.

Back in the lab, Race turned away from the big monitor and reached for a nearby headset. "IRIS, is it still possible to log into QuestWorld?"

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"What are you planning?" Bennett demanded sharply, turning to the younger man.

"I'm going in after them. Jessie is more than capable, but Kefira's only been in QuestWorld once before and has no experience fighting in that environment."

"What makes you think you can get in?"

"Because I wasn't in the program the last time."

"Neither was I, Race," Hadji pointed out as he watched Jessie and Kefira battle the glass soldiers. He noted that the two of them were now decimating the ranks of the enemy and they had begun to fall back in the face of the young women's assault. "I was not in the program before, either, and it will not respond to me."

"Yes, but you acted as operator on the system and interacted with it from the outside, helping Jonny and Benton free themselves from Surd's mind simulations. I didn't. I was on Compound invasion detail. If we're right, I should be able to log in and operate in QuestWorld much as Kefira does." Raising his voice, he called, "Jessie . . . Kefira . . . can you hear me?"

"Yes!" they both chorused.

Race nodded sharply as he donned the headset and settled in the chair next to his daughter. "IRIS, remote access . . . QuestWorld logon . . . subject Race Bannon. Immediate insertion into running program."

"REMOTE ACCESS ACKNOWLEDGED. QUESTWORLD LOGON . . . GOING HOT . . ."

The headset flared and suddenly the monitor shifted from the view of the abyss to the violence and noise of the entry tunnel once more. Race appeared in the midst of the maelstrom and promptly began fall into the chaos.

"What the . . . IRIS, HOVERBOARD!" It materialized and Race landed on it neatly. "Why didn't I enter the program at the point where Jessie and Kefira are?" Race demanded. "IRIS . . ."

"You can't, Dad." They could barely hear Jessie's disembodied voice over the tumult. "The program was too damaged. It only operates linearly. You have to start at the beginning and go straight through. I don't think whatever Julia did would be capable of fixing that. You're going to have to catch up with us."

"Jessie, look over there!," Race suddenly heard Kefira call. "Is that the castle?"

"Yes! Dad, we're heading in. Follow us as quickly as you can!"

"Jessica, wait for me! Don't go in there on your own . . ."

"No time, Dad. We can't let Julia get to Surd! Just get here as quickly as you can."

"IRIS, I need a power sled, NOW! And arm it . . . incendiary missiles, a laser cannon, and an energy shield.

Everyone in the lab stared at the screen tensely as it flashed and the scene changed again. A huge castle hung in the midst of the blackness. The decaying path ended at the front gates and at the entrance was a group of new soldiers.

"What is that?" Kefira demanded.

"Surd's castle," Jessie replied. "It was there that Jonny and Dr. Quest first confronted Surd."

"It was not here the last time we entered the program!"

"It comes and goes. Remember how I told you the images weren't always the same? The only thing that has _always_ been here every time I've entered is the gateway tunnel and the tower. Everything else seemed to come and go at random."

"Do we have to go through the castle to get to the tower?"

"I sure as hell hope not. I don't even like to think about all the booby traps there are in there. We're gonna start by trying to go around!" The two women banked to the right and began to circle around the large structure. They rounded it and took off into the blackness once again.

"Where is that tower?" Jessie muttered, peering ahead into the darkness. Suddenly, a structure materialized out of the darkness. As both of them stared, the structure solidified out of the darkness. Surd's castle . . . again.

"Damn!" Jessie said explosively. "Let's try to the left this time . . ." Once again, the two of them circled the castle and shot off into the darkness, only to have it reappear in front of them.

"I believe we are going to have to go in whether we like it or not," Kefira said unhappily.

"No," a new voice said strongly. "We don't go in . . . we go **through**." A loud, whining sound whistled past the two women and they had the briefest image of a missile before the castle exploded into a million flaming pieces in front of them and Race shot past them on the power sled. In the distance, beyond the flaming castle, the tower suddenly appeared.

"Way to go, Dad!" Jessie crowed.

"Let's put an end to this, "Race said grimly. **"NOW!"**

"What is that thing he is on?" Kefira asked, eyeing the sled.

"It's a power sled," Jessie replied, watching her father disappear into the distance no matter how hard the two women tried to keep up.

"IRIS, two power sleds," Kefira called and the requested items promptly appeared.

"Yes!" Jessie said enthusiastically. Then she warned, "Hang on to your hoverboard. You're gonna need it. These are too big to be able to get into the tower." Kefira nodded and the two of them sped after Race.

Back in the lab, Benton turned to his sons. "Come on. We've still got to get the virus planted. We gain nothing if that doesn't get transferred back to Baxter's home base!" The three of them moved to another workstation as Bennett sank down next to Estella and stared tensely at the monitor screen.

"I never dreamed that VR applications could be taken to this kind of length," he said hoarsely. "This is a nightmare . . ."

Estella shot him a swift glance. "Now do you understand why Benton won't let anyone know about this, Admiral?"

"My God, this makes Payson's work seem like child's play."

"Yes."

"What ever possessed Quest to invent something like this?" Estella saw him look toward the immobile body of Kefira. "A system like this should not even exist!"

Estella's tone was hard as she replied, "Benton Quest did not invent _this_. This is the work of a madman . . . a madman whose research you funded for years, I might add. Don't sound so morally outraged, Admiral. QuestWorld has a lot more positive applications than you can begin to imagine . . . something that cannot be said for the nerve gas you funded."

"That's not fair!" Bennett replied hotly. "There were outside pressures . . . we were in the middle of a cold war . . . we had enemies . . ."

"And that is supposed to excuse the development of invisible agents that can kill indiscriminately and with no warning?" Estella retorted hotly. "Let me tell you a story, Admiral . . . a story about a native South American culture who believed just as you do. No length was too far to go to defeat their enemies. Oh, they defeated them, all right . . . and in the process, they destroyed themselves, as well. The plague that they developed to kill off their enemies didn't make distinctions . . . it just killed. The ends don't justify the means, Admiral. All they're likely to do is to come back and even the scales!"

"Where do we set this up?" Jonny demanded, working swiftly. "If they're trying to back out of the system quickly, they aren't likely to be looking around to see what they can find."

"Hadji, can you find their point of access into the system?" Benton demanded. "Our best bet is to tie it to their point of exit."

"I am on it."

"But how are we going to get them to take it?" Jonny insisted.

"We do not need to," Hadji replied. "It is infectious enough, all they need to do is come in contact with it." Suddenly, he gave a grunt of satisfaction. "I have it!" He studied the results on his screen for a moment and then shot Jonny an ironic glance. "They are using the exact same access that Surd used the very first time he broke into the system."

"Figures," Jonny said in disgust.

Benton worked quickly, moving the research file to the appropriate location in the QuestWorld environment. "IRIS, compile the transferred file and convert it to a QuestWorld executable." He glanced over at his eldest son. "You have immunized _**our**_ system to this thing, right?"

Hadji nodded. "Yes. IRIS cannot contract it, but I've programmed IRIS to infect any persona in QuestWorld that is not one of the family members."

"IRIS, execute the file and transfer the virus to it." He looked at his two sons. "The personas that Julia and her friends are using are actually executable files. That means that the program that replicates them in QuestWorld is capable of picking up the virus. All they'll need to do is come in contact with it and they'll carry it back with them.

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WORKING. CONVERSION COMPLETE. EXECUTING NOW."

The small screens on the three workstations flickered and steadied. The video of the desert footage played out in absolute silence. Immediately after, the scene repeated itself, but this time the weapon seemed more accurate than it had before. Then it repeated once more, again with what appeared to be better results. The third time it ran, there seemed to be no change.

"That's it," Benton said quietly to his sons. "I was never able to get it to perform any better than that. Payson's basic premise won't allow it to develop any further."

"Thank God!" was Jonny's soft, fervent reply. "At least, if anyone else gets hold of his work, we know there are limits to what they can do."

"The same can't be said for QuestWorld," Benton replied heavily. Then he sighed. "I don't know . . . maybe we should destroy it now . . . before its existence becomes known. The devastation this system is capable of . . . "

Jonny reached out and laid a hand on his father's arm. "We've safeguarded it the very best that we can, Dad. And no one can steal it without destroying it."

"I know, Son, but no system is foolproof forever. What's kept it safe up to now is that no one knew of its existence. But more and more people are becoming aware of it. And sooner or later . . ."

"I understand, Father," Hadji replied softly. "But there is a tremendous amount of good that can come from the system as well. To deny that simply out of fear is not wisdom. We both know how much you feared the uses that the Rachel program could have been put to, but you resisted the urge to destroy it. Instead, you kept it, strongly safeguarded, and the world as we know it exists today because you did. Please, Father . . . do not destroy your greatest achievement."

The sudden sound of laser fire brought all three of them around to stare at the wall monitor. They saw Race hovering at the top of the tower on the power sled. Flashes of laser fire emanated from the interior, causing him to veer away from the entrance. As they watched, Jessie and Kefira joined him.

"We have to get inside!" Jessie called to her father. "Cover us!" Snatching up her hoverboard, she leaped from the power sled and sped toward the entrance to the tower with Kefira right behind her.

"No! Girls, wait!!!"

But it was too late. Both of them had disappeared through the entryway. Race sent a barrage of laser fire in after them, praying they were out of the line of fire. "IRIS, I need a hoverboard!" But return fire drove him away from the entrance again.

Inside, Jessie and Kefira leaped from their hoverboards in opposite directions. Laser fire followed them. Kefira rolled to her feet and snapped off a shot as she continued to move, taking shelter behind a lab table. On the other side of the room, Jessie threw herself down behind another table, and peered out, searching for their adversaries. She spotted Jeremiah Surd almost immediately. He stood, staring blankly at nothing, at the far edge of the room. Even the laser blasts exploding around him did not cause him to move. Suddenly, Jessie saw movement not far to her left and, as she looked, she saw Julia stand quickly and snap off a shot in Kefira's direction. Jessie didn't even hesitate. She launched herself at the woman, catching Julia squarely in the stomach with a shoulder. The two of them crashed backwards into a nearby counter and beakers, flasks and various other glassware came crashing down around them. Julia writhed desperately in Jessie's grasp, struggling to twist in her hold. The two of them rolled over and over on the floor as Julia's fingers grasped Jessie's throat.

"What have you done with Jeremiah?" Julia screeched, and tried to slam Jessie's head down on the floor. But Jessie writhed sharply, freeing her arms from under Julia's body. She lashed out and struck Julia sharply across one cheekbone with her fist. Julia sat up sharply, giving Jessie the opening to lash out at her again. Then, lying on her back on the floor, Jessie freed one leg, planted her foot firmly in Julia stomach, and sent her sailing across the room to crash into the wall.

As Jessie started to rise, she found herself staring straight down the barrel of a laser pistol. The eyes on the opposite side of the gun glowed an unholy red in a face totally devoid of color. Jessie gaped up at her assailant, stunned to immobility by the sight her new attacker.

"Who are you?" she stammered.

The face split into a nightmarish grin as his finger tightened on the trigger. "The last person you'll ever see!" he grated. But before he could complete the action, a dynamo with streaming black hair struck him like shot, sending the man end over end across the floor.

"Not while I can prevent it!" Kefira snarled. "IRIS, a staff!" She caught the weapon as it appeared in mid-air, and advanced on Baxter, wielding the long piece of wood deftly, as he staggered to his feet again. Lashing out with the staff, she knocked the gun out of his hand and it spun upward in a high arc to land somewhere on the far side of the room amid the rubble. Then, with a sharp, upward stroke, she smacked him under the chin and sent him staggering backward. She whirled the staff fluidly above her head, catching it by one end and struck him sharply again, this time in the ribs. Baxter doubled over, groaning, and dropped to his knees. "These are my friends you are threatening and I will not permit you to continue!"

Back in the lab, everyone watched in stunned amazement as the young Indian woman thrashed Baxter soundly.

"Woo hoo! Way to go, Kefira!" Jonny cheered. "Let him have it!" He reached out and pounded Hadji on the shoulder in glee. "Man, where did you _find_ this woman? She is absolutely **terrific!!!**"

Hadji just grinned.

By this time, Jessie was back on her feet and turning to face Julia once more. She saw the woman aiming her pistol at Kefira. Without hesitation, she snatched up anything she could lay her hands on and began hurtling it as the older woman. Julia threw one arm up to deflect the missiles and turned the pistol on Jessie. She snapped off a shot, but it was deflected by an incoming beaker. Jessie leaped to her right, grabbing for her pistol, which lay on the floor a short distance away, but a lucky shot from Julia sent it skittering out of her reach. Just as Julia was taking aim again, Race erupted into the midst of the melee. Jessie's forward momentum sent her directly into her father and they both tumbled to the floor. As he went down, Race lashed out with a leg and kicked Julia soundly, sending her reeling backward toward Kefira. The Indian girl dodged the careening woman, but the movement caused her to miss the stroke she had aimed at Baxter. The man lunged for her, but she ducked again and he went sprawling to the floor. What he found, when he came to a stop, was Jessie's gun. Snatching it up, he rolled, brought it up, and aimed it at Kefira as the girl turned to face Julia.

Time seemed to freeze as everyone realized that Kefira was totally unaware of the threat behind her. Race's voice in QuestWorld echoed Hadji's in the lab as they both screamed, **"NNNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"** at the same instant.

But Jessie's voice drowned them both out as she screamed, "Kefira, _DROP!!!!_" Without losing a beat, the Indian girl seemed to collapse. She dropped straight to the floor and rolled. The shot, aimed to strike her in the chest, went over her head harmlessly and struck the immobile body of Jeremiah Surd squarely in the face.

All around them, a wild keening rose. It was sharp and piercing and seemed to penetrate into both body and soul of anyone within earshot. Rage, hatred, and despair echoed like the sound of the wind wailing on a stormy night, and they all thought they heard a voice shrieking, _I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!!!!_ And then, finally, like a dying gasp, _Jjjjuuuulllllliiiiaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ And then it was gone.

For an instant, no one moved. Then Baxter snarled in rage as he brought the pistol up again and aimed it at Race and Jessie. But when he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. The powerpack was spent. Julia leaped to her feet and ran toward him. "It's over!" she spat. "Let's get out of here!" Pulling him behind a nearby lab table, she called, "This isn't finished . . . we'll be back! QuestWorld logoff . . . subjects Julia Canova and Richard Baxter!" And in the next instant they were gone.

"Kefira!" Hadji's voice suddenly echoed frantically in the shattered lab. "Kefira, are you all right?"

Jessie and Race looked at the Indian girl sprawled face down on the floor with sudden fear. Both heaved a sigh of relief as she propped herself up on her elbows and shoved her hair out of her face. She looked directly at Jessie. "Never dull . . ." she said with a shake of her head, and Jessie collapsed back against her father, laughing weakly. "Yes, beloved," she replied. "I am fine."

In the lab, Hadji dropped heavily into a chair, his legs no longer able to support him. "Damn . . ." he said clearly.

"Hadji!" Benton gasped, stunned. Jonny chuckled and patted him on the back.

"You'll never get used to it, but you'll learn to live with it," he said knowledgeably. 

"Are they gone?" Estella demanded.

Benton turned back to his console. After a moment, he replied, "Yes, they're gone."

"And the virus?" Bennett questioned.

Benton nodded wearily. "Transferred. It looks like Baxter picked it up."

"How long before . . ."

"It will take some time," Hadji replied. "In order to ensure that our enemies do not detect it and have a chance to try to formulate a defense or analyze it, I designed it as a stealth virus. It will spread undetected and causing no damage until it reaches a certain saturation point within the infected system. Once it reaches that point, it activates and destroys totally. After it activates, there is no stopping it."

"So now we wait," Jonny concluded.

Back in QuestWorld, Jessie got to her feet slowly. Kefira rose to join her and the two stood, surveying the wreckage for a moment before they turned and moved slowly toward the blank wall on the far side of the lab. When nothing happened, Jessie reached out and laid her hand against it. Nothing. She turned her head and the two eyed each other in silence.

Finally, Jessie said quietly, "I guess it really is over, now. He's gone."

"Yes," Kefira replied softly. "But it was not your doing, Jessie. You did not kill him."

Race came up behind the two. "What do you say we get out of here? Let's go home."

Wearily, Jessie nodded. "IRIS," she called, "log us out of QuestWorld, please."

"ACKNOWLEDGED." A few seconds later, all three opened their eyes to find the rest of the Quest clan gathered around them. Hadji caught Kefira up out of the chair and hugged her to him tightly, not saying a word. Race rose and went directly to Estella. Jonny helped Jessie up and started to put an arm around her, but she moved away from him. Crossing the room slowly, she stepped up to the console. Hitting two keys, she said quietly, "IRIS, system update."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WAITING . . ."

With a sigh, she said, "Purge all components of the program 'Thoughtscape'. Also, access all archive material, search for program 'Thoughtscape' and purge from there as well."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. WORKING. PROGRAM 'THOUGHTSCAPE' NOW PURGED FROM MAIN SYSTEM. SEARCH OF ARCHIVED MATERIALS COMMENCING. ANTICIPATED COMPLETION TIME AT CURRENT PRIORITY RANKING, 12 HOURS, 23 MINTUES. DO YOU WISH TO INCREASE THE PRIORITY LEVEL FOR THIS FUNCTION?"

Jessie shook her head slowly. "No. Continue at given priority level. Notify me when purge is completed."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"You did the best you could, Jess," Jonny said softly, turning her from the console and gathering her into his arms.

She laid her head against his chest and sighed again. "I know. And I understand that it's probably better this way. But I still feel like I failed somehow."

Jonny just pressed her head into his shoulder and held her tightly.

  


* * * * *

  


**Baxter's Hideout  
Portsmouth, Maine**

Julia Canova and Richard Baxter opened their eyes to find themselves back in the research complex in Portsmouth. Julia leaned forward and put her face in her hands. "Oh, Jeremiah . . ." she whispered softly.

Nearby, Lorenzo stood, staring at the screen of the laptop that sat on the table. "Where's the boss?" he asked in confusion. "I thought you went in there to get him out." He turned to stare at the immobile figure sitting in the life support chair nearby. "Hey, that gizmo's stopped working!"

"Yes," Julia whispered. With an effort, she straightened and turned to look at her brother. "He's gone, Lorenzo. He died."

"Died? But . . ." Then he stopped. Lorenzo was not the most intelligent person in the world, but he knew his sister and he knew that she had been devoted to Jeremiah Surd for a very long time. Awkwardly, he stepped up and patted her on the back. "Oh, hey, Sis . . . I'm really sorry."

Julia sighed deeply and then looked across the table at Richard Baxter. He was staring back at her with a calculating look. "So now what?" she asked.

"I want it," Baxter replied with conviction. He turned to Edgerton, who was still staring at the screen on the laptop with a stunned expression.

"I've never seen _anything_ like that," he said. He turned to Julia abruptly. "That's fully VR? The people you fought in there are real?" he demanded.

Julia nodded wearily. "Yes . . . just like we were. I don't know who the dark-haired girl was . . . I've never run into her before . . . but the other two were the Bannons . . . father and daughter."

"But how? It was so fluid . . . totally seamless. No jerkiness, no hesitation at all." He looked over at Baxter. "Cybersickness? Disorientation?"

"Absolutely none," Baxter replied.

"How?" Edgerton demanded fiercely, turning back to Julia.

"Quest's design . . . totally," she replied, sitting back with a deep sigh. "Even Jeremiah didn't understand how it works. It's like he completely started over. The system never appeared to be based on anyone else's work. Jeremiah could make it work to his advantage, but he was never able to duplicate it . . . or even figure out the fundamental way it works."

"I want it," Baxter repeated more forcefully.

"Can we pirate it?" Edgerton demanded

Julia shook her head. "No. It becomes totally unstable when you attempt to download it. The only way we were ever able to get a copy of it was if we stole a machine that it was already loaded on . . . like we did this one. Quest must have a way, but we were never able to discover what it was."

Baxter rose to his feet abruptly. Pointing at the laptop on the table, he said to Edgerton. "Plug that thing into our system and analyze what's on there. If nothing else, analyze the data it accumulated while we were in there. I want that system. And if I have to take that Compound by force, then that's what I'll do."

"Yes," Edgerton agreed, still staring at the laptop. Julia knew that look . . . it was greed. Not only did Baxter want the system . . . so did Edgerton. She also knew what the look meant. Any question of a direct assault on the Quest Compound was now settled. They'd be going in with a full, frontal assault. It was only a question of when . . .

  


* * * * *

  


**Quest Compound**

Benton, Race and Admiral Bennett sat in Benton's study. The tension between them could be clearly felt.

"I still don't understand how this could have happened!" Bennett said harshly. "You _said_ the system was offline . . . disconnected from anything that would have allowed access. How did Richard Baxter and Julia Canova get in?"

"I don't know, Admiral!" Benton replied in a hard tone. "How many more times do I have to say it? You heard Jessie as clearly as I did. Something triggered IRIS to bring the system back on-line. I don't know what it was. In all likelihood, it's something Surd had previously planted, but until we can find and analyze it, I can't tell you _how_ it was done. Hadji is looking. If he's able to locate it, then we have a chance of disabling it. If not, the best we can do is react to the threat when it occurs."

"That's not good enough!" Bennett replied angrily. "Every time they get in, the risk increases."

"You think I don't realize that?" Benton snarled, beginning to lose his temper. "I can all but guarantee that whatever Surd did to turn QuestWorld lethal did not get purged along with that program. He made that modification long before the 'Thoughtscape' program ever existed. As it stands, I can't even swear that the standard games that Jonny and Jessie used to play haven't been infected and won't kill them! You think I want to put my kids at risk the way we were just forced to do? But there's simply no other choice. Until we can figure out what allowed them access, our hands are tied."

"You can destroy the entire system!"

"Now wait just a damned minute . . ." Race started to say, but Benton overrode him.

"Believe me, Admiral, I've considered it. I came extremely close this afternoon. But as long as there is any chance that I can find a way to safeguard it so that it can't be used for harmful applications, I'll preserve it and keep trying. There's too much potential for good in it to give up unless I absolutely have to."

"And what's it going to take to convince you . . . one of your own kids dying in there???"

"That's **ENOUGH**!" Race thundered, as Benton turned white.

"Perhaps it would be better if we placed the blame for the incident this afternoon where it belongs," a new voice said coldly. All three men looked up to see Hadji standing in the doorway. His face was set and harsh, and it occurred to Bennett that this was as close to fury as he'd ever seen in Benton Quest's eldest son. "I have managed to isolate the subroutine that allowed our enemies access to the system," he said tightly, moving into the room. Bennett saw that Jonny was behind him, and the younger boy looked no friendlier than his brother. The two young men moved to once again flank their father and stared at Bennett coldly.

"What . . ." Benton began, but Jonny interrupted.

"It _had_ been dormant . . . up until this afternoon."

"Then someone input a code string that activated it," Hadji added.

"But _how_," Bennett demanded once again. "If the systems were offline, how did someone get in to do it?"

"Because it was done from inside . . ." Hadji said coldly, moving toward the military man threateningly. ". . . from this very room."

"It certainly didn't take you long to locate it," Benton said, leaning forward and placing a placating hand on his eldest son's arm. "How did you find it?"

"We started with the assumption that because the system was off-line, whatever triggered it must have come from activity inside," Hadji replied, taking a deep breath and turning to his father. "We had IRIS give us a list of all data input to the system within the last 24 hours and began reviewing it. It was easy enough to eliminate the work that Jonny and I had been doing in the lab, and that you had been doing in the main house. Beyond that, most of us had not been working on the system. It did not take us long to find the one done from here."

"What was the command?"

Jonny shrugged. "It wasn't really a command . . . just a string of pure gibberish. It's what made it stand out so clearly . . . particularly since it followed immediately after one stand-alone terminal was reconnected to the backbone." He glared at Bennett. "Funny thing . . . all the trouble to isolate a single unit and bring it back on-line and then no one used the connection." He turned back to his father. "As close as we can tell, the program itself was set up to trigger an executable file when that particular string of gibberish was detected. So we physically disconnected the hard line to the outside and disabled the satellite uplink transmitter, put a tracker on the string and executed it again. From there, it was easy enough to monitor system activity, trace the result back to its destination, and destroy the program."

"An accident?" Benton asked. "Could one of us just have gotten lucky and input the right string of characters?"

Both young men shook their heads emphatically. "Not a chance," Jonny said grimly. "That string was constructed to ensure that it wouldn't happen accidentally . . . too many characters that you wouldn't use, even in programming, unless you were going for them specifically."

"And that leads to only one conclusion," Hadji said coldly, turning back to Bennett once more. "Someone from outside this family, with access to our computer system, deliberately input that data."

"Leeds," Race said flatly.

"It can't be," Bennett replied with conviction, turning back to Benton. "Leeds is a lot of things, but he is not a traitor."

"No," Race said in a quiet voice that caused everyone to turn and look at him. He had listened silently as Jonny and Hadji had explained their logic. Now he raised his eyes to Bennett's and the look in them caused the military man to shiver. "No," he repeated, "he's not a traitor. But he is a self-centered bastard, and this is exactly the type of game that he'd play. He'd use anyone and anything to get what he wants. Somehow, he knew what would happen when he inputted that code, and he bet the entire game on the hope that we could repulse anything that Baxter might do."

"To what purpose?" Bennett demanded. "What could he possibly hope to gain?"

"We're bait," Race replied coldly. "He knows Baxter . . . has been chasing the man for over ten years with a single-mindedness born of hatred. Little or nothing draws this man out into the open. But QuestWorld is totally unique with a great potential as a weapon. The promise it holds would be enough to do it. Leeds has gambled that Baxter's inability to lay his hands on Benton or any other member of this family, coupled with his first demonstration of the power of the system, will be enough to draw him out in a direct, frontal assault on this Compound."

The members of the Quest family saw Bennett's face change as the impact of that logic hit him. "He said it," Bennett said hoarsely after a moment. "He said he wouldn't sit back and do nothing when there was a chance to flush the man out in the open . . . "

"So he set it in motion," Race said grimly. "Which means, sometime very soon Baxter is going to hit this Compound . . . probably with everything he's got."

"Well, it's what we were trying for," Jonny pointed out dryly.

Race grimaced. "Yes, but I would be a lot happier if we were in a bit better control of the situation."

"Look," Bennett said, standing, "we need to get all of you out of here. We can put military personnel in the . . ."

"No," Benton said flatly.

"You are a direct target now," Bennett argued. "You can't stay here . . ."

"I am not leaving, Admiral. This is my home, and I will not be driven out." He turned to Race. "What do you think we can expect?"

Race looked grim as he contemplated that question. "It's hard to say. The man has been collecting cutting edge weapons technology for close to 15 years, so it's anyone's guess what he's got. Our big advantage is that he wants the Compound . . . wants IRIS . . . although he probably doesn't realize exactly what's he's after. He's not going to do anything really drastic, like nuke the place, or he'll destroy the very thing he wants."

"What about that nerve gas?" Bennett pointed out harshly. "He could wipe out everyone in this place with little or no effort."

"No," Race countered. "We already know that Julia's in league with him, and she knows that it won't matter if they take this place if they don't have at least one of us alive and talking." He took a deep breath and looked Benton straight in the eyes. "And that means that we really should get you and the others out of here, Benton. Kefira said it last night . . . we can't afford to have you put in the position of having to make a choice between one of the family and giving Baxter what he wants."

"No," Benton said again. "I stay. If it gets that bad, then my own hand destroys this place. But I will agree that you need to take the others . . ."

"I won't leave," Jonny said flatly. "Not as long as you're here."

"Nor I," Hadji agreed.

"If one stays then we all stay," a voice said from behind them. As one, the five men turned to find Estella, Jessie and Kefira standing shoulder to shoulder just inside the door. No one had heard them enter.

"Stel . . ." Race began, but he was cut off immediately.

"Women and children to the lifeboats, is that it?" she asked angrily. "Well, it's not going to happen! I'll die fighting beside you before I live one more day without you. I swore that to you three days ago, and I won't turn my back on that vow now, you understand me?"

"None of us will go," Jessie said.

Hadji crossed to Kefira and caught her by the shoulders. "Kefira, it is going to be extremely dangerous. I cannot allow this. You must . . ."

"We stand together or we fall together, beloved," she said, gazing up at him. "I will not leave."

"Okay, that's it then," Benton said reluctantly. Turning back to Bennett, he said, "We all stay. But I want you out of here, Admiral, along with all of your men outside of the perimeter fence."

"No, Dr. Quest! You are going to need all of the manpower we can possibly get. I'll call in added reinforcements. Hopefully, they will get here in time . . ."

But Benton shook his head. "No, Admiral, you won't. If Baxter hits us with that kind of power, added men on the outer perimeter will simply be slaughtered, and I won't have them inside the fence."

"Now is not the time to worry about a repeat of what happened with your wife!" Bennett said hotly.

Benton returned his gaze steadily. "I'm not," he replied. "It is vital that the defenses of this place be able to operate at optimum levels. IRIS must be programmed to recognize anyone inside the fence that is not to be a defensive target. The more people there are within the boundaries, the more limited she is." Benton shook his head sharply at Bennett's look. "I don't think you understand the gravity or scope of the situation, Admiral . . . or just how determined I am to be certain that Baxter doesn't get the technology housed in this facility. There are things within this Compound . . . working prototypes and programs . . . that have the potential to destroy the world." Benton smiled grimly at the man's look. "Does that idea scare you, Admiral? It should, because it scares the hell out of me. Race told my son last night that, for a good man, nothing is worse than discovering that there is a part of you capable of lusting for revenge and having the power to exact it. I've never been consumed by that burning need for revenge . . . no matter how much I've hated. But I've had my own demons. Time has allowed me to lay most of them to rest, thank God, but trust me when I tell you, grief can drive a man as frantically as revenge, and its result can be equally horrifying. Do you know that I could bring my wife back, Admiral? Do you comprehend what that means? I have the power to go back and alter what happened 12 years ago . . . change history. But I haven't done it, and I won't. The price would be higher than I could ever pay . . . no matter how desperately I may want Rachel back."

Bennett stared at the red-haired man in front of him in disbelief, wondering if the pressure was finally starting to cause him to crack. His gaze shifted to Jonny, Hadji and Race who stood at Benton Quest's side and all of them gazed back at him without flinching. Suddenly, Bennett heard Race's voice echoing in his mind.

_"We'd been there for about a month when he came downstairs one morning with an almost frantic need to work. In a frenzy, he got the lab set up again and then he shut himself away for days at a time, working on a project he refused to talk about."_

"What did you do?" Bennett asked in a hoarse whisper, shaken into belief. "What did you create?"

Benton shook his head. "It doesn't matter. In the end, I didn't use it. But there are those who wouldn't hesitate to do so. And because of that, I will never let _**anyone**_ take this place. I will blow it to kingdom come with my entire family inside before I allow that to happen."

Bennett looked from the intense man sitting behind the desk to his two sons, who stood to either side of him. As he watched, the rest of the family came up to join them. Jessie went to Jonny's side and Kefira to Hadji's as Race and Estella moved to stand at Benton's back. There were identical expressions on every face.

"In the wrong hands, much of what is here is extremely dangerous, Admiral," Jessie Bannon said quietly. "But the very things that you seem so horrified about now have saved you more than once. Ezekiel Rage would have destroyed this entire planet if it weren't for Dr. Quest and his inventions. You have a responsibility in this, too, you know. You can't come to us with frantic requests for help in the face of impossible situations and then be morally outraged when you find out what it takes to accomplish what you asked."

Benton shook his head slowly. "No, Jessie, the responsibility for the things I've created, both alone and with the help of others, still belongs to me and no one else. So, Admiral, I want you to take the men you have stationed outside this Compound and I want you to leave. I won't be responsible for any more deaths than are absolutely necessary. I would send my family with you, but I know them well enough to know that they wouldn't go . . . they'd simply try to defend me by drawing my attackers off using themselves as bait. And I can't permit that." The man smiled with absolutely no humor. "So you see, Admiral, what Kefira said was true. We will stand together or we will fall together . . . as we've always done."

Bennett was silent for a long time, looking from one to another. Finally, he drew a deep breath and said quietly, "If you are determined to have them gone, then I will send the men outside away, Dr. Quest. I swore to you a few days after your wife died that I would never again go against your wishes on the matter of defending you or your family. But Ms. Bannon is right . . . part of this is my responsibility and I have no fear of accepting that. I have stood in defense of you and your work for many years, and I won't stop now. You are a man of integrity and high principles and as long as you control what is here, I have no fear that it will be put to improper uses. So whether I do it from inside or outside, I will stand with you, as well."

Benton sighed softly. "Very well, Admiral. I will leave that decision to you, just as you must leave the decision on the final fate of this Compound to me."

"Fair enough."

Benton leaned back in his chair and was silent for a moment, staring at the surface of the desk blindly. Then he looked up toward the ceiling and said quietly, "IRIS, institute failsafe protocol, please."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. FAILSAFE PROTOCOL ACCESSED. AUTORIZATION CODE?"

"Authorization code Quest 9874 failsafe omega."

"VOICE MATCH CONFIRMED. AUTHORIZATION CODE CONFIRMED. FAILSAFE PROTOCOL ACTIVATED. PLEASE SPECIFIY PARAMETERS FOR EXECUTION."

"Hold for instructions."

"HOLDING."

Benton leaned forward and activated a switch under the desk. Rising from his chair, he crossed to the far corner of the library and moved a table out of the way. Kneeling, he ran his fingers along the floor until he located the slight ridge along the floorboards. He ran his fingers along the ridge for a moment and suddenly an entire section of floor rose revealing a floor mounted safe. A moment later, he had the safe open and had removed two small optical disks from it. Shutting the safe, he closed the floor access and replaced the table. Then he crossed back to the desk and faced his sons. He held one of the disks out to each of them.

"These disks contain the execution commands that will trigger the failsafe protocol. Inserted into the drive of any computer in the house or the lab, it will activate the countdown and 20 seconds later, this entire bluff will vaporize along with anything on it." Both young men took the disk offered to them. "I am the only one who can trigger the failsafe by voice, and I expect to be the one to make that choice. But should something happen and I am incapacitated before I can do it, I expect you both to do what needs to be done. No hesitation, you understand? If it means sacrificing any or all of us, that's what I will expect of you. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Father," Hadji replied steadily and Jonny nodded.

"We'll do what has to be done, Dad."

Benton nodded and then addressed IRIS again. "IRIS, activate voice recognition protocol and passwords for failsafe execution. Also, enable optical disk protocols for failsafe execution with vocal confirmation by either Hadji Singh or Jonathan Quest."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. SPECIFY DURATION OF FAILSAFE ACTIVATION MODE."

"Until further notice."

Suddenly, hidden lights flared casting a dim red glow across the ceiling of the room. Bennett turned and looked out into the hallway through the open study door and saw the same red light reflected across the ceiling in the hallway. IRIS' voice seemed to echo throughout the house as she replied, "WARNING. COMPOUND FAILSAFE SYSTEM NOW ACTIVATED AND ARMED. AWAITING FINAL COMMAND FOR EXECUTION OF PROGRAM ANNILIATE."

Benton turned from his sons and looked steadily at Race. "Well, old friend, here we are. We both hoped it would never reach this point, but . . .

"I know, Benton. But we always knew it might come to this."

Benton nodded wearily. "So now what?"

"Now, we start getting ready," Race said grimly. "First off, we all need rest. We'll start sleeping in shifts . . . four on, four off. Benton, Stel, Jonny and Hadji . . . I want you on first round." He checked his watch. "It's 8:20 p.m. I want you to go to bed now. We'll wake you at 1:00 and trade places. I'll have a list of things for you to do when I rouse you. In the mean time, Jessie, I want you and Kefira to do a physical run through of the house. Check all doors, windows, and accesses. They need to be closed and locked. Check all mechanisms and let me know if anything appears loose or worn. Also, all sensors on accesses. When you finish that, I want the same thing done in the lighthouse. Hadji, did you leave the satellite uplink and the hard-line disconnected?" Hadji and Jonny both nodded. "Good. We're not going to risk them getting back in and attempting to disarm the security system. Admiral, you and I are going out to talk with your men outside the perimeter." Race looked at Benton apologetically. "I know you want them out of here, Benton, but I'm going to override you on that one. We need all the advantage we can get, so I'm going to use them to give us an edge. I've gone against Julia enough to know how she thinks. So I'm going to see if I can't funnel her attack. She'll want to hit what she perceives to be our weak point, so I'm going to give her one."

Bennett was nodding. "Reinforce the perimeter and leave a deliberately vulnerable spot. Narrow the areas we have to watch."

"When do you figure they'll strike?" Benton asked.

Race shrugged. "Anyone's guess. But I don't think Baxter will wait long . . . he doesn't strike me as the patient sort. And if it was me, I'd strike right before dawn. Darkness would give me cover to get my men in place, but dawn would give me the light I'd need for a ground assault."

"There's one other thing," Jessie said quietly, looking at Jonny and Hadji. "We've got some phone calls to make."

"The party," Hadji replied.

"Dang," Jonny muttered. "I'd forgotten about that. What do we tell them?"

"We tell them that we are postponing it," Kefira replied.

"They'll want to know why," Jessie warned.

"Then we tell them it's because of Bobby," Jonny said decisively. "We tell them it's because we're concerned about him and we want to wait until we know something about his condition. He and Matt have been my best friends here in Rockport since we moved here. No one will question that." Jonny looked over at Race. "That's the first thing we have to do. We can't risk someone wandering out here and getting caught in the middle of a firefight."

Race nodded. "Do it. Okay, let's go people. We've got a lot to do and we don't know how long we've got. Let's get at it."


	15. Chapter 14 Wednesday, December 29

**Chapter 14**

  


Wednesday, December 29

  


Quest Compound

__

Dear Father,

If you have received this letter, then I am dead. I am so very sorry. I know that it will be hard for you to accept, and I also know that this note will not be easy for you to read. But I want you to know that this was my choice. We knew that there was a danger this might happen and Hadji tried to send me away, but I would not leave.

I cannot begin to explain all of the reasons why I chose to stay. Part of it is that I have felt so welcome here. Dr. Quest is like no one I have ever met, and for all that he has done for me, I felt that I owed him my loyalty. It is a lesson you taught me. And then there is Race and Estella . . . I was an attendant in their wedding, Father. I have never experienced such complete acceptance before. No one here seems to feel that I need to be anyone other than who I am . . . and I don't need to be afraid to say what I think or do what I think is right.

Jessie . . . what can I tell you about Jessie, Father? I love my sisters . . . please do not misunderstand me, but Jessie is like my twin. We enjoy the same things and we think so much alike. Often, we do not even have to talk to know what the other is thinking. It is . . . I am sorry. I simply do not know how to explain.

But the most important reason of all is Hadji. Father, I love him. I still do not understand what happened. When I first met him, I was so angry. He ran into me and almost bounced me off of a wall in the palace . . . I never told you about that. He was so apologetic. But even then, I think I knew. And being here has only reinforced it. I could not go . . . not and leave him here. I had to stay with him, Father. Karma has decreed it . . . it is where I belong.

So please do not grieve for me. I am very lucky. I am happier to have had a very short time together with Hadji, than to have lived a long life and never have known him. Please tell Mother, Sumant, Daria, Maia, and Srinivasan that I will miss them. Thank you for everything you have done for me, Father. I love you very, very much.

Goodbye,

Kefira

"You're supposed to be sleeping," a voice said quietly. Kefira looked up to find Jessie standing at her shoulder.

"Yes, I know. But there was something I needed to do."

Jessie's glance flicked to the screen that glowed brightly in the dim light of Kefira's room. Then she looked back and said, "Goodbye letter?"

"Yes," Kefira agreed. "I know it is silly, but . . ."

"It's not silly," Jessie disagreed. "I've had one done and cued to send to my mother for a long time. Now that she and my dad are married again, I guess it's not really necessary, but I understand how you feel. You want him to know . . ."

"Yes."

"So are you finished?"

Kefira gazed at the letter for a moment longer and then she sighed and said, "IRIS, save this file as an e-mail message. Set it to time send to my father."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. PLEASE SPECIFY DATE TO SEND."

"Send just prior to the execution of the failsafe protocol, or in the event of my confirmed death."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. MESSAGED CUED FOR DELAY SEND ACCORDING TO SPECIFIED PARAMETERS."

"So, did you get any sleep at all?" Jessie questioned.

Kefira nodded, "Some."

"Want to go back to bed?"

"No. I am going to go find Hadji."

Jessie nodded. "We're thinking alike, again. I want to find Jonny, too. I'll bet they're together."

"Yes, I suspect they are. Do you know where they would be? The lab?" Kefira replied, rising. The two girls headed for the door.

"Probably downstairs. I doubt that Dad will allow us to be split up like that. We'll all be in one place or the other."

As they descended the main stairs, they could see dim light flickering in the family room. They stopped in the doorway and saw Jonny and Hadji. The two young men sprawled on the large sofa, staring at flickering images on the wall monitor on the other side of the room. Every 10 seconds or so the images shifted, showing various views of the perimeter fence, buildings and grounds of the Compound. Some areas were dark and others were brilliantly lit. Without a word, the two women crossed to join them.

"You're supposed to be asleep," Jonny said neutrally, sitting up slightly and drawing Jessie down onto his lap.

"I did. Now I'm awake and want to be with you," she replied, settling comfortably and turning her eyes to the monitor. He nuzzled the top of her head, but didn't bother to reply. Next to them, Kefira had nestled up next to Hadji and put her arms around him. As she looked up, their eyes met. His held pain and guilt . . . where hers showed contentment.

"You should have left, Kefira," he said in a low voice. "This is not right. I do not want you to die here at the hands of a lunatic."

"My choice, beloved," she whispered softly. "I do not wish to be separated from you. From this day forward, I will stand with you . . . no matter what happens."

"But . . ."

"I love you, Hadji. I will not be without you."

He stared at her, shaken. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she agreed. Then she smiled, hearing the echoes of the nearly identical conversation in her mind. "Was it any different for you?"

"No," he whispered. Then, an instant later, the pattern of the conversation registered and he smiled at her ruefully. "Am I being slow?"

She laughed and tightened her arms around him. "A little. Are we clear on the point now?" He nodded. "Good. Then let us move forward. I do not believe that Race has any intention of allowing any of us to die, anyway, so it really does not matter." She reached up and caressed the side of his face softly and then drew his head down and kissed him.

Jonny and Jessie glanced over, then looked at each other and smiled, before turning their attention back to the monitor once more.

  


* * * * *

  


Race slipped quietly into his suite downstairs and closed the door. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it across the sofa. The lab was locked down. Of the two complexes, the lab was probably safer. It's steep walls and small, high-mounted windows made it much more difficult to enter in the event of an assault. But the very nature of its security was also its disadvantage. It meant they were locked in with few or no options. Because of that, he had chosen to make their stand in the house. IRIS' defenses were formidable . . . he had seen to that . . . and the house provided more avenues of escape if that became possible. Strategies for the coming confrontation had been planned out with family members, and had been communicated to the government troops outside the Compound perimeter. They were as ready as he could make them.

Baxter's men would be allowed to breach the perimeter . . . not without a fight, certainly . . . but they would be allowed through. Race grinned humorlessly. Even Mother Nature seemed to want in on the game. The weather had turned again. Around nightfall, the temperature began to rise. Angry gray clouds had rolled in and the wind had come up from the northeast. By midnight, it had begun to sleet. A combination of ice and snow had continued throughout most of the night. Then, about two hours ago, it began to taper off and the temperature began to drop again. While out at the lighthouse a short time ago, Race had fought his way to the cliffs to check the ocean approaches. No one was going to try and hit them from that direction. The sea was wild . . . crashing against the rocks all along the shore with enough violence to smash anything attempting to approach that way. And even if they could reach the shore safely, there was no reaching the top of the cliff. He had destroyed the stairs leading down to the boat dock and scaling the cliffs, even with climbing gear, was out of the question. Ice coated everything. Their flank was safe.

That meant that their only choice was to come through some part of the fence. Race had taken some of the men from the perimeter and hidden them. They would not participate in the initial confrontation. The impression would be one of thin outer defenses. About 30 meters south of the main entrance was a section where the vegetation came almost up to the fence. It was the most logical place for a strike. There was surveillance and defensive armament concentrated along this area, but Race had isolated them. Without a doubt, they would be the first targets and he expected them to go down quickly. With the help of Bennett's people, Race had added hidden cameras in the trees to monitor the area. The attackers would be allowed to breach the fence there. The cameras would give them an idea of the numbers they were facing.

Hand-held rocket and missile launchers were certainly a possibility, but IRIS was programmed to identify and intercept any attack of that kind. Not only would she target and destroy any type of airborne missile before it reached its target, she would also trace the source of the launch and eliminate it. Race sighed. He didn't like that idea much . . . too bloodthirsty . . . but they really had no choice. If Baxter brought that kind of firepower against them, it had to be eliminated quickly and ruthlessly or they didn't stand a chance. 

Bennett's men that had been pulled from the perimeter were now secreted throughout the forest outside the Compound. Their job was to spot the attackers and to determine how heavily armed they were. The one thing that could seriously hurt them would be a simultaneous missile attack on the perimeter fence in multiple places. Bennett's men were to spot their attackers, identify any missile launchers and pass that word ahead. IRIS' targeting abilities were outstanding. The hope was that she could eliminate the missile launchers _before_ they were used against the fence.

Once Baxter's men tried to breach the perimeter, they would find that the fence was electrified and that there were guns all along it. Each 6-meter section was armed and electrified independently, so taking out one section would not take down the entire grid at once. Race anticipated that they would try hitting it in several different places, but was certain that when they managed to create a breach, the attack would gel in that one place. When they got inside, their attackers would come face to face with the full force of the Compound's defenses.

Julia would know that they would have a fight on their hands once they got inside, but even she would have no idea just what they were facing. After the fiasco with Surd's Thoughtscape program, Race had completely redone the security of Quest Compound. Lorenzo and his people had penetrated the defenses way too easily that time and he had been determined that it wouldn't happen again. Baxter and his people would be facing a hellstorm the like of which they couldn't begin to imagine. Laser-based targeting guns permeated the trees and the ground was mined, as well. It would make the storming of Omaha Beach look like a picnic. If Baxter brought enough men to survive the transition from the perimeter fence through the trees inside the Compound to the edge of the clearing on the coast, they would then face a dual prong attack. From there, targeting lasers would take over. These weapons were set throughout the lawn area and each of them had a cloaking device specially designed by Benton that would make them extraordinarily difficult to target. Also, buried just below the surface of the soil was a complex net that was capable of carrying an electrical charge. If Baxter's men got to the grounds around the house, IRIS could send electrical current through the ground, stunning . . . or even killing . . . their attackers as they crossed the lawn. Again, this was set up in sections, so it could be done selectively to maximize the confusion. At the same time, the family members would be armed and targeting their attackers from the house. Additionally, Bennett's men were now hidden on the outside of the fence. They would follow Baxter's men through the breach in the perimeter fence and keep up a constant, flanking assault. And if all of that failed, they were left with the failsafe protocol. Race sighed. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

He crossed the outer room of the suite and opened the door into the bedroom silently. The bathroom light glowed softly behind the semi-closed door. A smile flickered briefly on his face. A nightlight. She had always done that when he was due in late, knowing it make him edgy to enter a room that he couldn't survey first. He crossed to the bed and knelt beside it, being careful not to cast a shadow across her face. Her shallow breathing told him that she was dozing rather than being deeply asleep. He knelt there, gazing at her silently. His wife . . . After all of these years . . . after all of the things they had been through . . . and she had taken him back. He still couldn't quite believe it. She was heartbreakingly lovely, lying there on her side with one hand curled up under her cheek like a child. Suddenly, as though sensing his presence, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him. After a moment, she smiled.

"Hey," she said softly.

He reached out and stroked her cheek gently. "Hey yourself," he replied.

"Are we all set?"

"As we can be. All we can do now is wait."

"Where is everyone?"

"Bennett's elected to stay with his men outside and lead that assault. Benton's still in bed, I think, and the four kids are all together in the family room watching the security monitors."

"I thought the girls were supposed to be asleep."

Race snorted softly. "Supposed to be and doing it are two totally different things."

"I can understand that." She caught his hand and kissed it. "Strength comes from many different places, and sometimes, rest can be the least effective source."

Race rose abruptly and sat on the edge of the bed. Catching Estella up in his arms, he drew her to him and cradled her close, burying his face in her hair. "Dammit!" he swore fiercely. "You shouldn't be in the middle of this . . ."

"If you're in the middle of it, then I belong here, as well." She leaned away from him enough to be able to look him in the eye. "We've fought our battles separately long enough. We're stronger together, Race. We will win this one . . . I know it. I have faith in you."

Holding her tightly against him once again, he prayed she was right.

  


* * * * *

  


Benton Quest lay in the middle of his huge bed staring at the ceiling. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl and he found himself unable to sleep. Whatever happened, he just wished it were over.

The choices he had facing him in the next few hours scared him. He thought about his life and all that he had accomplished in his 54 years. _Is it worth it?_ he asked himself. _All the things I've done . . . all the things I've accomplished. Are they worth the lives of my sons?_ He cringed, thinking of what would happen if he was forced into voicing the authorization code that would activate the failsafe protocol. His instructions to Jonny and Hadji had been firm and uncompromising, but would he be able to do it if they were backed into that corner? Could he kill his own sons and the two women they loved?

_Rachel,_ his mind cried out to her desperately, _please come back. I need you now more than ever! I can't make this decision alone . . ._ But she was silent . . . gone forever. He knew it even before he called to her. Then he remembered her last words. 

Jonny and Hadji would never accept anything less than what he had set in motion . . . anymore than he would. With a soft sigh, Benton thought about that for a long time, remembering his earlier concern about Race and his relationship with Jonny and Hadji. It would seem that both he and Race had taught them more than they realized . . . both bad and good.

He shifted restlessly. If they lived through this, he had the feeling that this Christmas would not stand out as one of the better ones he had ever experienced.

  


* * * * *

  


In the deep darkness of pre-dawn, unseen shadows flitted through the trees along the perimeter of the Quest Compound. This was not an easy feat considering the deep snow that lay heavily across the area. Compounding it was the screaming wind and driving sleet that made conditions miserable and cut visibility to nothing. But difficult conditions could also have their advantages. The heavy snow and miserable weather conditions hampered the defender just as it did the adversary, and the sleet and snow limited visibility for everyone.

"Field base, this is Forward One. Do you read?"

"Go ahead, Forward One."

"I've completed scouting the perimeter and identified the most likely target zone. Defensive lines outside the perimeter are lighter than I expected them to be and appear to be concentrated around the main gate."

"How many men?"

"I counted seven."

Back in the trees near the road, Julia frowned. "Odd. I would have expected Bannon to have a much tighter line guarding that fence."

"Maybe he's pulled 'em back inside the fence to guard the house," Lorenzo suggested.

"Maybe," she said uneasily. "Or maybe it's a trap." Around her, the strike commanders waited. There were ten of them, all large, grim-faced men with long experience as professional mercenaries. Each of them commanded a group of 20 men who were also battle-scarred veterans. Julia had been put in charge of the operation since she and Lorenzo were the only ones who had experience with a frontal assault on the Compound. She had been impressed when she discovered that Baxter had put a small army at her disposal. He really did want the place! Of course, he really didn't have much choice now.

When Baxter had turned the laptop over to his lab people, she tried to tell them not to attempt to download anything to their mainframe computers. However, the head of Baxter's computer research team was a haughty asshole that was not about to let her tell him anything. She knew him by reputation, of course . . . a leading researcher in the field and probably, next to Quest or Jeremiah, the best there was available. But his ego was huge and he simply refused to take guidance from anyone. She had wondered briefly how he had managed to survive, working for a man as volatile and violent as Baxter. The man had spent about 10 minutes browsing over the contents of the system and then had ordered his technicians to hook it into the system and transfer the contents so they could begin analysis. She had tried again to warn him that the contents of the laptop were not downloadable, but he informed her that he had developed a buffer that would allow him to download anything without a disruption of security protocols. When the man wouldn't listen, Julia had appealed to Baxter, insisting that he would lose everything if he allowed the man to persist. Baxter wouldn't listen either. At that point, Edgerton had stepped in and drew her away. In a soft voice, he had warned her that there was no point in pushing. They were determined to try it and there was nothing she could do. When she repeated her warning again, Edgerton had shrugged philosophically and said that Baxter always had to learn the hard way. So she had shut up and let them proceed.

Initially, she thought that maybe he was going to be able to pull it off . . . the system seemed to be willing to transfer data . . . but that didn't last long. After about a minute, the screen had suddenly flickered and the transfer of data stopped. It sat there for about 30 seconds, and then a box had popped up with a simple message . . . UNAUTHORIZED DOWNLOAD ATTEMPT DETECTED. SAFETY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED. The screen went blank briefly and then a new message appeared. NON-RECOVERABLE CATASTROPHIC ERROR. The screen went blank again, and then the words SYSTEM FAILURE filled the screen. After that, it had died totally. A subsequent check found the laptop totally empty . . . devoid of anything whatsoever. Baxter had flown into a rage, screaming incoherently and smashing anything he could lay his hands on . . . including the portable computer system. It was only Edgerton's intervention that had prevented Baxter from shooting his lead computer scientist on the spot. Watching Baxter's fury over the failure, Julia had decided that maybe saying 'I told you so' wasn't a good idea.

She shivered suddenly as a blast of frigid wind flung a needle-like spray of ice into her face. Baxter was just plain nuts . . . worse that Surd had ever been. Jeremiah had been pretty bent, Julia would never deny that. And the older he got, the worse it had become. But **all** of Baxter's screws were loose. He was a raving lunatic. She had no idea what made Nathaniel stick with the man. Hell, he was lucky to have lived this long!

"What are we waiting for?" an irritable voice behind her demanded. Julia turned in the darkness and stared at the black shape that materialized at her shoulder.

"Daylight," she replied flatly. "Trust me, Baxter, you don't want to try to go up against what we have in store for us in the dark."

"They don't even know we're coming," he replied contemptuously.

"Bullshit! Not only do they know we're coming, they're ready for us. They're just waiting for us to make the first move."

"Field base, this is Forward Two. Come in . . ."

"This is field base. Go ahead, Forward Two."

"Field base, flanking approach is out of the question. Seas are too rough and the access to the cliff top has been destroyed."

Julia nodded in the dark. "I expected as much. Pull back, Forward Two. We're going to have to go head-on against the land perimeter. Bring your men back and join the main attack force."

"Acknowledged. Forward Two out."

"Not expecting us, huh?" Julia said sarcastically to Baxter. Then she sighed. "It was just too much to expect that Bannon wouldn't have closed off the seaward access after we got in that way the last time. We'll just have to do it the hard way."

"We've identified three spots where the perimeter seems the most vulnerable," one of the squad commanders volunteered. Spreading a map out on the hood of a nearby vehicle, he illuminated it with a flashlight as he pointed to three evenly spaced sections of the fence. "These two have a fair amount of open ground between the trees and the fence, but this one has vegetation up to within a foot of it. A single man, moving under cover, should be able to reach the fence and set an explosive device that will bring down that section and disrupt the system."

Julia shook her head. "Bring down that section maybe, but don't rely on it taking the rest of the system down as well. Bannon won't make it that easy. Pick your man, commander, and have him get started. In the dark, the vegetation should give him enough cover to plant explosives along about an eight foot section of the fence. Have him be excessive with the explosive. My guess is there are monitoring stations and defensive weapons hidden just inside that fence. Anything we can take out in the initial explosion is that much less we have to face when we cross the perimeter line. You and you," she said pointing to a second and third man, "send a four man team each to the other two sections that have been identified as potential weak points. Let's see if we can get someone close enough to mine those, as well. I have my doubts, but let's see what happens. If nothing else, it will tell us one way or the other if they have been caught sleeping or if they really are ready for us." The three men moved off silently.

Baxter stirred restlessly and Julia heard him inhale, but before he had the chance to comment, a new sound interrupted them. Static filled the air briefly and then a voice crackled over the radio in the vehicle. "Julia, are you there?"

She reached out and snatched up the microphone and thumbed the switch. "Here, Nathaniel. What have you got?"

"Nothing," the voice replied in disgust. "The weather is too bad. No satellite images are coming through at all."

"Which means we have no aerial recon of any kind," Julia said resignedly. She turned to Baxter who still stood at her shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this? Everything is against us. The weather's bad, we have no visuals of what we're facing in there, and we know that they're going to be waiting for us." As though to emphasize her point, the silence was suddenly broken by the whining sound of laser blasts. In the distance off to their right, an explosion rocked the night, and a brilliant flash of light silhouetted the trees for a brief instance and then died away to a dull glow. Her head jerked around and she snapped, "What . . ."

One of the commanders listened closely to the whispered voice coming over the headset he wore and then replied grimly, "The man attempting to set the explosives on the far right side of the perimeter was killed as he tried to cross the open ground in front of the fence. He didn't get within ten feet of it."

"They're waiting for us," she said grimly to Baxter once more. "This is suicide."

"We have sheer numbers on our side," Baxter replied flatly. "If we don't have enough men, I'll get more. We will overwhelm the place. But one way or the other, it** will** be mine before the day is out. Do you understand me? If you can't handle it, you can be replaced. It's your choice."

Julia turned away again. "Commander, pull the team on the left side of the perimeter back and recall the remaining men from the right side assault force. There's no point in losing people in vain attempts. We'll concentrate on the one section of fence where we have some cover and then hit them with everything we've got in that one spot. Where are the men with the mobile missile launchers? I want them to line up just out of sight all along that section of fence. Once the explosives go, the automated systems will react. I want them targeting the defensive retaliation sites. We need to clear a corridor that we can move through."

"What about using the missile launchers to breach the fence in several different places?" one of the men volunteered.

"No," Julia replied flatly. "We won't have a second chance to use those launchers. Once they've been fired, the men using them will be primary targets and will be as good as dead. They won't have a chance to reload and fire again. We stand more of a chance of getting through if we use the majority of them to clear a corridor deep into the grounds rather than creating several different shallow penetrations."

"You're giving Quest an awful lot of credit," Baxter said sourly.

"No, I'm not giving Quest any credit whatsoever. But I am giving Bannon every _ounce_ of credit he deserves." She turned in the dark and said fiercely. "Understand me, Baxter. I'll lead this suicide charge of yours and I'll do my damnedest to get you what you want. Why not? With Jeremiah gone, I really don't have much else. But mark my words; if a handful of us walk away from here today it will be a miracle. Now stay out of my way." Turning back to the others, she said harshly. "We have about an hour until dawn. We strike at first light. Position your men, gentlemen, and wait for my signal."

  


* * * * *

  


"What happened?" Race demanded, striding into the family room. Estella and Benton followed him closely. All were fully dressed.

"A group of men tried to approach the fence," Jonny replied, eyes never leaving the monitor. "Judging by the size of the blast after the laser struck, he was carrying explosives."

"What are the thermal sensors telling us about numbers?"

"It was a four-man team that tried the fence," Hadji replied. "Three of them got away. There was also some indication of a second team approaching another spot on the far left side, but they never got close enough to get a count of numbers and they pulled back as soon as the first attempt failed."

"Any indication of an attempt on the section of fence near the gate?"

"Not yet," Jessie answered. "But I don't think it will be long now. And the rest of the assault force is taking care to stay out of range of the sensors."

"I think I'll see what Bennett has to report," Race started to say, but his daughter cut him off.

"I just talked to him. His men are being very careful to stay well out of sight. He says that the lieutenant recognized one of the attackers as a professional mercenary. They can't tell exactly how many of them there are, but the force is sizeable."

Race sighed. "Swell. There's nothing left to do but wait."

  


* * * * *

  


It was close to 7:30 when the force of the first explosion shook the walls of the main house. Race had expected the assault to start earlier, but the heavy overcast and threatening weather conditions had made visibility extremely poor until well past dawn. From his vantage point at one of the front windows on the second floor, he watched the plume of smoke and fire shoot skyward with a curious sense of anticipation. The waiting was finally over. Even through the heavy stone walls, he could hear the responding laser fire. A second explosion . . . and a third reverberated through the stone under his feet. Through the miniature receiver in his ear he heard IRIS' whisper.

"MISSILE LAUNCHERS IDENTIFIED. TARGETING. COUNTER MEASURES IMPLEMENTED."

The sounds of fighting escalated until explosions and gunfire merged into a continuous, non-stop din. IRIS' soft running commentary was a constant litany in his ear.

"FIRST LINE ASSAULT REPELLED. PERIMETER SECURE."

"FIVE MISSILE LAUNCHERS ELIMINATED. SECOND WAVE ASSAULT COMMENCING."

"PERIMETER DEFENSIVE LASERS IN SECTION B5 NEUTRALIZED. PERIMETER HAS BEEN BREACHED. FALLING BACK TO SECONDARY DEFENSE LINES."

"SECOND MISSILE ATTACK COMMENCING. SOURCE IDENTIFIED AND COUNTER MEASURES IMPLEMENTED. SIX MISSILE LAUNCHERS ELIMINATED."

"SECONDARY DEFENSE LINES FAILING. FALLING BACK TO GROUND DEFENSES. ESTIMATED NUMBER OF ENEMY REMAINING . . . 100 . . . ALL HEAVILY ARMED."

"Shut down all perimeter and secondary defense lines in sections B3 through B7 and divert all power to ground defenses," Race directed steadily. The perimeter and secondary defenses had to be disarmed or Bennett's men would be caught in them when the flanking maneuver began. Unfortunately, it also meant that it would leave their enemies free to move back and forth through that corridor unmolested. If Bennett's men fell, Baxter could bring in reinforcements any time he liked and there would be nothing they could do about it. But they had no choice. Race tightened his grip on his laser rifle and stared through the window intently. In moments, the attacking forces would clear the forest and reach the open ground between the house and the trees. The fight was about to get a lot more personal.

Next to him, he heard Estella pump a round into the chamber of the rifle she held and then her reassuring warmth disappeared. He looked to his left just in time to see her vanish into the room at the far end of the hall. He knew that the rest of the family was spreading out along the front of the house on both floors in an attempt to cover as much as they could. He thought of Estella again. They were separated now and he might never see her again. He thrust that thought away, knowing he couldn't afford the distraction. Reaching out, he opened the window and allowed the icy wind to whip in around him. Kneeling on the floor, he balanced his laser rifle on the sill and watched the distant tree line intently, waiting for a target.

  


* * * * *

  


Leeds waited near the main road for the initial assault to begin. As soon as he heard the first explosion, he abandoned his position and sprinted down the road toward the main gate. Almost immediately, he was intercepted by two of Bennett's men. Leeds identified himself and suddenly found himself on the wrong end of a military rifle. One of the soldiers informed him that he had orders to take him into custody and detain him pending the Admiral's arrival. Leeds reacted instantly, disabling the man closest to him and bringing the confiscated rifle to bear on his companion. Unfortunately, the other soldier was not prepared to back down and Leeds was forced to shoot him. As he moved away from the road and into the trees, he hoped that the man was still alive. But somehow he doubted it. 

He quickly found himself in a highly undesirable position, caught between Baxter's forces as they laid siege to the perimeter of the Quest Compound and Bennett's men, who were preparing to launch a flanking attack. Leeds moved constantly, ducking both sides. The heavy snow and ice made this extremely difficult, however the poor visibility and bad weather conditions provided some assistance. Somehow, he managed to avoid both sides as he searched with single-minded intensity for one man. Baxter **would** be his . . . one way or the other.

A sudden shout of triumph warned Leeds that something had happened. In desperation, he had finally taken up a position in a large oak tree about 100 yards from the perimeter assault. As he peered down from his elevated position, he saw Baxter's men surge forward suddenly. The abrupt stillness of the guns within the fence marked the fall of the perimeter defenses. Baxter's men were in. Uneasiness gripped Leeds. What if Quest was wrong and they couldn't hold the Compound? Hatred flared as he searched the crowd of men streaming through the gap in the fence. Take out the heart and the rest would crumble. He had to find Baxter.

Surveying the surrounding area swiftly, he assured himself that he could descend unseen and then dropped to the ground. He hesitated for a brief instant, taking stock of the situation. He had hoped to be able to take Baxter before he managed to get inside, but that was clearly not going to be possible. If he were coordinating the flanking assault, he would allow the attacking force to throw itself against whatever defenses Bannon had set up in the trees, further decimating their numbers. Once they reached the clear land that stretched up to the house, he would deploy his forces in the trees behind them and pin the attackers down in the open. Leeds had no doubt that as soon as the assaulting force was involved with fighting their way toward the house, Bennett would move in and hit them from behind. There would be no way for him to take Baxter without one side or the other getting him.

Time for Plan B. Turning away from the gap in the fence, he moved carefully back from the perimeter searching the surrounding snowcover. There . . . a path through the snow running parallel to the fence! Military defensive protocol was very predictable. Bennett's men would have been patrolling the entire length of the outer perimeter. This path was sure to follow the fence line straight down to the ocean. He turned onto the path and moved down it at a trot. Now he would see just how trustworthy the Hamilton girl actually was . . .

  


* * * * *

  


Francesca watched in grim amusement from her hiding place not far away as Leeds dropped from his tree and disappeared onto the path that led down to the ocean. So far, so good . . . everything was going as planned. Now for the next step. Watching carefully for Bennett's men, she moved away from the combat zone. She continued until the sounds became muted and indistinct. Finally, she stopped and pulled out her cell phone. Dialing quickly, she waited. It cut off in mid-ring and a harsh voice snapped, "Edgerton!"

Making her voice sound breathless, she gasped, "Edgerton! It's Francesca. Tell Baxter it's done. I managed to convince Leeds that you've found a way into the Compound from the beach on the far southern perimeter. He's headed down there now and he's alone. Quest's people have discovered he was the one that breached the Compound's computer security and they've got a shoot-on-sight order out on him. Baxter can take him out without any risk."

"What? He's going down there even though he expects to walk into an assault team?" the man replied sarcastically.

"No, you idiot," she snapped. "He thinks that you and Baxter will be down there, getting in on your own. I told him that Baxter is using the assault team as a diversion so the two of you can get in under their security and reach the lighthouse."

"There _**is**_ no secret entrance down by the beach!"

"Of course there isn't," she practically screamed at him, "but Leeds doesn't know that! If Baxter doesn't get down there, Leeds will get away and then he will continue to pursue all of you with even more single-minded hatred than he already is. And believe me, Edgerton, after all the work I went to, if you blow this because you don't tell Baxter it's set, I'll see to it that you don't live to see the light of another day!" Francesca stabbed the off button on the phone viciously and then turned to follow the path toward the beach. Edgerton better not screw this up. She _needed_ both men there. If she were forced to kill one or both of them separately, there would be no way for her to make it look like they killed each other. She wanted out from under both of these men and today was going to be the end of it.

  


* * * * *

  


**Baxter's Lair  
Portsmouth, Maine**

Edgerton swore violently and slammed the phone down. Around him, the situation was rapidly deteriorating. Men were calling frantically back and forth as computers and electronic systems everywhere went crazy. Lights flickered and died, electronic systems crashed, and even the warning alarms were suddenly still. It was like a growing ripple effect, starting in one place and spreading swiftly and with growing destruction in all directions.

"What is it?" he yelled over the din to the computer chief.

The man straightened abruptly from the computer he'd been using and replied, "A virus. It can't be anything else."

"Well, isolate it! At the rate it's spreading, it's going to take the entire computer network down."

"It's too late. It's already infected the entire system . . . it did that before it became active. I've never seen _**anything**_ this virulent. It spreads like wildfire, it destroys utterly, leaving absolutely nothing behind to recover, and then even destroys itself so there's no way to analyze it."

"Then pull the plug on this base!" Edgerton snapped. "We can't let it get beyond this facility . . ."

"Don't you understand what I'm saying?" the other man screamed back. "It's too LATE. Wherever it came from . . . however it got into our system . . . it's _**already**_ spread. It's everywhere! Bangkok was the first to report it. Then the main Middle Eastern hub. Before it began shutting us down, every single facility reported being infected. We can't stop it . . . there's going to be nothing left!"

"The archives . . . " Edgerton said hoarsely.

"Gone," the man replied helplessly. "The initial infection must have occurred prior to the nightly backup run to the main computer archive in Europe. When it was done, the sleeper virus went with it. It's over. There's nothing we can do but abandon it all."

"What about the equipment itself? It is salvageable?"

"No, I don't think so," the man replied in defeat. "Every system I've checked has not only been wiped but all major components have been irretrievably damaged. It's all junk.

Edgerton turned away, swearing. "How??? How did this happen? We had the best of everything in the way of security. How is this possible?"

For a long moment, the other man didn't reply. Around them, the chaos was slowly ebbing away as every system died. Technicians wandered away in dazed silence, stunned by the sudden and absolute destruction. Finally, he answered softly, "There's only one man alive with the expertise to have developed something like this. But I never thought he would do it."

"Who?" Edgerton demanded harshly, turning back with a wild light in his eyes.

The other man shook his head and said softly, "Benton Quest."

"Quest!" The name was like a curse. Turning, Edgerton strode across the room and burst into Baxter's private office. Like the rest of the building, it was dark and silent. Slamming the door shut behind him, he reached out and picked up the phone. Dead . . . just like everything else in this God-forsaken place. He stood for a second longer and then made a swift decision. Turning, he fumbled around until he found the flashlight in Baxter's desk. Using it's light, he located the release that triggered Baxter's emergency exit. Edgerton smiled grimly. The man always left himself a way out. Grabbing the coat that hung nearby, Edgerton entered the exit corridor and closed the door behind him. Carefully, he moved down the dark passageway until he came to a staircase. He climbed several flights of stairs and finally arrived at a landing and another corridor. This one angled sharply away from the building. He followed the second corridor for about ten minutes and finally came to another door. Fumbling with it, he shoved it open and emerged into a dimly lit building that smelled of diesel fuel and dust.

The silence around him told him the building was empty. Crossing the large room, he eased the door open a crack and peered out cautiously. He was in a warehouse in the middle of one of the light industrial districts not far from the river. No one was in sight. Pulling the coat tightly around him, he stepped out of the building and closed the door behind him. Then he strode away as though he had just finished a business meeting and was off to his next appointment. When he left the industrial complex, he found himself on a small street just off one of the main thoroughfares in Portsmouth. On the corner of the main road he spotted a convenience store. He made for that at a brisk walk. When he arrived, he went straight to one of the pay phones that stood outside. Dropping money in the phone, he punched in a number from memory and then waited impatiently. After a moment, a voice answered. The sounds of fighting could be heard clearly over the connection.

"It's me. Don't ask questions . . . just listen. We're screwed. Quest has infected our entire computer system with a virus and it's just finished self-destructing. No, I mean totally . . . there's nothing left . . . anywhere. And the Hamilton girl called. She says that Leeds is on his way down to the beach on the south perimeter and that we can take him easily. I think she's set us up and anyone who walks into it is a dead man. No, listen to me! It's not worth it. Just leave it! There's no time. We need to cut our losses and get out. I'm on my way to our pre-arranged rendezvous point. Leave the troops fighting and slip away. Their battle will cover your exit. Yes, I got the money transferred. It should be safe. The virus must have been transferred when we penetrated their computers and got into their VR system. I made the money transfer before then. Just get out . . . now. If you're not there in two hours, I'll go without you."

Edgerton reached out and pressed the disconnect lever, smiling grimly. He was no fool. It was over and he was not going down with _this_ ship. Releasing the lever, he dropped more coins in the phone and dialed again. "Yellow Cab? I need a taxi . . ."

  


* * * * *

  


"Where are you going?" Julia asked Baxter harshly.

"I have some unfinished business with one of the government's men," Baxter replied shortly, turning away from his attack force. "I'll leave this in your capable hands while I deal with this other thing."

"You mean the little scene that the Hamilton girl set up for you? I tell you, Baxter, that girl's using you. It's a trap."

"I don't believe it," Baxter replied. "The girl is too much of a self-preservationist to double cross me. She knows where her best interests lie. I'll take care of this business and be back here before you manage to break through to the open ground around the house."

Julia looked over and watched the last of her men clear the perimeter fence and move into the trees. They were dropping like flies . . . losses had been high just getting through the fence and into the trees on the other side. She didn't even like to think of what they still had ahead of them. "How do you propose to get down to the meeting place?" she asked sarcastically. "Wade hip-deep snow?"

Baxter laughed harshly. "No, I'm going to make use of 'government issue'. Quest's government lackey's have already cut a trail all along the fence line. With everyone involved in the assault on the facility, the path will be clear. You just take care of this and I'll deal with the other."

Julia shrugged. "It's your neck. But if you're serious about wanting to take this place, you better call for reinforcements. We've lost over half of our fighting force already and we haven't seen the worst of it yet."

Baxter nodded as he turned away. "I'll call them in as soon as I get back." Then he moved off and quickly disappeared. Julia stared after him in disgust. Absolutely, 100% certifiably crazy . . . there was no doubt about it. Call in reinforcements when he got back? _If_ he got back was more like it. Glancing back at the gap in the fence again, she saw that all of her combat troops had disappeared into the woods. Well, she wasn't crazy.

Passing on Edgerton's message about the Hamilton girl's plans ensured that Baxter would be out of her way. Nathaniel hadn't wanted her to find the man. She wasn't sure if it was actually because he felt she didn't have the time to waste or if he still held some fragment of loyalty to the lunatic. But whatever the reason, she had decided to take the time to send Baxter to that rendezvous. She wanted him out of her way while she made her escape. This enterprise had been doomed from the start. She hadn't lied to him . . . they were losing men by the dozens. And her sixth sense was telling her that they were missing something. It bothered her that there was still no sign of military personnel. All of the reconnaissance had told them there was a good-sized unit stationed here. What had happened to them? She just couldn't believe they had pulled back and left the Quest Compound vulnerable. They were here somewhere. She was sure of it. And she didn't want to be around when they finally made their appearance. Her combat troops were fully occupied and Lorenzo had already been warned to make himself scarce. Her brother may not be very bright, but he was good at losing himself when the situation called for it. She'd contact him again later when things had settled down a bit. Right now it was time for her to disappear, as well. She had a rendezvous to make.

  


* * * * *

  


From his position on the north end of the house, Hadji could tell that the grounds defenses were weakening. The men they were fighting were tough and intelligent. They sent out small attack teams . . . suicide squads really . . . who moved quickly across the open ground, shooting at anything that moved. IRIS' defensive guns quickly dispatched these men. But in the mean time, the remaining attackers marked the sites of the return fire and systematically destroyed the emplacements from the relative cover of the forest. It was a war of attrition. It was just a question of whether Baxter would run out of men before all of the defensive guns were neutralized. Hadji wondered briefly what had happened to Bennett's men. There had been no sign of the flanking attack. He supposed that they had been caught outside the fence and never had the chance to move into place. _Using the failsafe protocol is looking more and more likely,_ he thought grimly. Glancing down, he checked the power pack on his laser rifle. Dead.

He looked around quickly, wondering where Kefira was. He suddenly had the desperate desire to be with her. If this was his last fight, he wanted it to end with her beside him. The time they'd had together had been so short. There were so many things they had never had the chance to share. A sudden surge of envy shook him. Jonny and Jessie had been allowed so much more. He wanted the chance to know the kind of happiness those two shared now. This wasn't fair . . .

On the other end of the house, Jessie dropped down beside Jonny and peered over the sill at the advancing forces. Clear inroads in the grounds defenses had been made and the enemy was getting bolder, beginning to move out into the open with more confidence.

"We don't have much time left," she observed calmly. "IRIS isn't going to be able to hold them much longer."

"We've still got the electrical ground net. They just haven't advanced far enough to encounter it," Jonny replied, snapping off a shot at the lead man of the pack.

"If it's still operational," she replied doubtfully. "Their systematic elimination of the gun emplacements has to have severed an awful lot of it. How much of it can be broken before the entire system goes down?"

Jonny shook his head. "I don't know. You'd have to ask Race."

"I don't want to know that badly," Jessie replied with a sour chuckle. Reaching out, she propped a standard high-powered rifle against the wall in his line of sight. "Give me your laser rifle. The power pack has to be low. Mine's gone. I'll get new packs for them and be right back." Jonny handed off the gun and reached for the one she had provided as she rose to a crouch to move away. 

"You'd better check with Hadji. He probably needs a replacement, too." Suddenly, he stiffened. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, staring out the window and rising slightly to get a better look. Abruptly, three things happened at once. From above, they both heard Race's frantic yell of alarm. At the same time, IRIS's cool voice said, "UNIDENTIFIED WEAPON OBSERVED. DEFENSIVE MEASURES COMMENCING." And finally, they both heard the low, distinctive thump and whine of a missile launcher through the shattered window. An instant later the opposite end of the house seemed to erupt in flame as the missile struck home in the heart of the kitchen.

_**"HADJI!!!!!!!!!!!!"**_ Jonny and Jessie screamed simultaneously as they started to rush toward the inferno. But it was obvious to both of them that nothing could have survived that attack. It had been a direct hit.

Jonny turned back to the window in fury, firing wildly as Jessie stumbled across the room toward the open gun cabinet. Dashing away tears, she snatched up the power packs and jammed them home and then returned to the window to join Jonny. As she watched, IRIS' deadly aim took out the missile launcher that had struck the house. 

"ONE MISSILE LAUNCHER ELIMINATED. FIRE CONTAINMENT SYSTEMS ACTIVATED."

Then, a new sound was added to the chaos. Automatic weapons fire . . . Bennett's people had joined the fight. As they watched, Jonny and Jessie saw their attackers turn in confusion only to be confronted by soldiers. They advanced, firing mercilessly, catching the remaining attackers between their assault and the Compound's defenses. IRIS immediately compensated, shifting her remaining weapons so that the enemy was driven back into the deeper snow on the open lawn.

"ATTACKING FORCES NOW WITHIN EFFECTIVE PERIMETER. ACTIVATING ELECTRICAL GROUND NET."

And just that quickly it was over. A low level current in the ground net had formed a film of water under the snow layer. When the net was activated, the current conducted through the film of water and up through the moist snow causing the remaining attackers to drop senseless to the ground. Warned ahead of time, Bennett's men hung back and remained out of the range of the net's effect. As the enemy fell, the soldiers broke off the assault and sudden silence settled over the Quest Compound.

Jonny sagged against the wall and the gun slid from his suddenly nerveless fingers. He lowered his face into his hands as his shoulders shook in grief. Beside him, he could hear Jessie sobbing softly at his feet. He raised his head slowly as a thump in the foyer was followed by Race's appearance in the doorway of the family room.

"Was anyone . . ." Race said hoarsely.

"Hadji." Jonny replied numbly, his voice breaking on the name. "Hadji was in the kitchen . . ."

"Oh, God . . ." Race murmured painfully and stumbled over to sink down into a nearby chair.

Jonny sank to the floor and put his arms around Jessie. "Was anyone else hurt," he asked with difficulty.

"No. Benton was on that end of the house, but he ran the instant he saw what direction the weapon was aimed. Kefira and Estella were on the other end of the house." A loud thump from the foyer heralded Benton's arrival this time. He stared from one of them to the other and then to the still burning remnants of the dining room and kitchen. Blindly, he turned and stumbled toward the devastation.

"Dad, no!" Jonny launched himself at his father. He caught him on the threshold of the dining room and forcibly dragged him back away from the door. "Don't."

"We have to check . . . be sure he isn't lying there hurt . . ." Benton tried to pull away, but Jonny clung to him tightly, drawing him further back from the heat and smoke.

"No, Dad. It was a direct hit. Nothing could have survived. There's nothing you can do." From above, they heard a strangled sound. Both men looked up and saw Kefira standing at the head of where the main staircase used to be. Splintered shreds of wood and a huge pile of debris were all that remained.

"No," Kefira said in a tight voice. "He cannot be dead." Estella moved up and put her arm around the girl's shoulder and Kefira turned to her blindly. "Tell me it is not true . . . please . . . "

Stumbling footsteps behind them caused Jonny and Benton to whirl around.

"What happened?" Hadji staggered unsteadily into the foyer from the study corridor. He had a large gash above one eye that was bleeding profusely and he appeared dazed. But he was alive. With an inarticulate sound, Benton pulled free from Jonny and flung himself at his eldest son. Catching him in his arms he held the young man tightly.

"Kefira, wait . . ." Jonny said in alarm as the young woman pulled free from Estella. But it was too late. She had already swung herself over the edge of the landing and let go. Jonny staggered as he caught her before she could hit the floor. Then she was out of his grasp and into his brother's arms as Benton stepped back to allow them room.

"Dr. Quest, are you all right?"

Benton turned as Admiral Bennett appeared at the main door, followed closely by two other soldiers. The thump behind him told Benton that Estella had made the drop from the second floor and had joined the rest of them. Unsteadily, Benton leaned against the wall and replied, "I believe everyone is safe and accounted for, Admiral. Is it over?"

"Finished," Bennett said flatly. "My men are still rounding up the last of them, but the assault is over. Those few that avoided the effects of the net have been routed and are fleeing in disarray."

Benton nodded slowly. Then he cleared his throat and said, "IRIS, temporarily stand down on the failsafe protocol pending confirmed end of hostilities. Are you able to reestablish as least partial Compound security?"

"NEGATIVE. PERIMETER BREACH AND PARTIAL DESTRUCTION OF DEFENSES HAVE LEFT GAPS THAT CANNOT BE ADEQUATELY COVERED. ADDITIONAL MANUAL SECURITY IS RECOMMENDED UNTIL REPAIRS CAN BE COMPLETED."

"Do you have monitoring capabilities on the breached areas?"

"NEGATIVE."

Benton nodded wearily. "Admiral, I know I said I would never again have military personnel within the grounds of my home to protect my family, but I wonder if I might impose on you this once to provide that service for me. We seem to be a bit thin in defensive capability at the moment."

"Certainly, Dr. Quest. We'd be honored to provide that service until you can get your systems up and operational again. May I also offer to send a man into town to pick up Dr. Mason and bring her out here? Mr. Singh looks like he could use her attention and I believe there will probably be others who need it, as well."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

"I'll join you again once I have a better idea of where we stand." With a brief word to the two officers with him, Bennett disappeared. One of the remaining men took up an alert stance at the front door, as the other disappeared. A minute later, Race saw him pass the big window on the side of the family room as he circled the house. After a moment, he rose slowly from his chair and said wearily,

"It's too cold to stay in here. Let's go back to the study. At least it still has all of its windows and we can light a fire in the fireplace for warmth." As one, the seven of them turned away from the destruction and followed Race out of the room.

  


* * * * *

  


The sound of the ocean caused Baxter to slow his headlong pace to a wary crawl. It was possible that Julia was right and that Francesca had set him up. He didn't believe it, but it never hurt to be careful. Stopping just inside the treeline, he scanned the clearing ahead of him. The fence he had been following moved out of the trees, crossed a section of beach, and then cut back sharply to anchor itself firmly in a high rock cliff on his left. About 25 feet off to his right, the cliff rose abruptly again and trailed off into the distance. Spread out ahead of him was a wide expanse of rocky beach. Looking around in surprise, he suddenly realized that the path he had been following must have dropped down into a river of some kind that fed out into the sea through a break in the coastal cliffs. The tides and heavy seas had scoured much of the ground in front of him free of snow, leaving only ice-glazed sand, rocks and boulders. Baxter looked up at the sky. The weather was beginning to change. The clouds above him were rising steadily and beginning to break up. The wind had also shifted, blowing now from the north rather than from the east. As a result, the temperature was dropping steadily and it was turning bitterly cold. The seas had also begun to calm so that the spray coming off of the cliff wall did not obscure visibility. Footing would be treacherous, he knew, but at least he would be able to see and wouldn't be struggling to keep from foundering in the snow.

Suddenly, down near the waterline, he caught a sudden flash of movement. Baxter grinned wolfishly. Leeds! It had to be. Soon, he would be rid of this thorn in his side once and for all! Staying carefully concealed, he raised his voice and called,

"Leeds! I know you're out there. Show yourself!"

Harsh laughter echoed through the thunder of the surf. "And have you use me for target practice? I don't think so. Why don't **you** come out?"

"Because I'm not a fool. And I've got the advantage on you. I'm on high ground. How long do you think you can hold out down there with the tide coming in?"

"Longer than you can," Leeds replied confidently. "It won't be much longer before Bannon and Bennett's people finish yours off. And then Bennett's men will begin running the perimeter line again to ensure that the Compound is secure. What do you suppose they will do to you when they find you?"

"You seem pretty sure my forces are going to be beaten," Baxter challenged.

Leeds laughed again. "I am. Your weakness is your overconfidence. You think that no one can best you so you underestimate your opponent. Bannon's the toughest bastard alive. Add in the fact that he's protecting his own home and family and you're dead meat. He's never lost yet, and I can promise you that under those circumstances you won't be the one to beat him."

Baxter shifted uneasily as he searched the beach for any sign of where Leeds was hiding. Nothing moved. After a moment, he sneered, "Maybe he'll win this time. We'll see, won't we? But even if he does, I won't quit. I've got the money and power to keep coming back at them until I get what I want." Baxter's chuckle was ugly. "I'll do it, too. You know me well enough by this time to know that, I think." Carefully, he began moving down onto the beach, using several large icy boulders as cover. Pinpointing the location of the other man's voice was proving impossible due to the echoing thunder of the surf, but his earlier movements had given Baxter a hint and he thought he now knew Leeds' location. Keeping silent, he worked steadily toward that spot. All he needed was one, clear shot . . .

Leeds continued talking, deliberately goading the other man. "I wonder just how much you'll really have left once this is over. I have to say, the best thing you ever did for me was taking on the Quests. You signed your own warrant when you did that. If I don't get you, Quest and Bannon will." Leeds paused for a minute and then continued in a musing tone. "That would almost be better, really. I'd love seeing you caged like the animal that you are. No power . . . no money . . . no influence . . . nothing. Just a rat caught firmly in the trap. It would make the last ten years more than worth it!"

Baxter flushed a dark crimson and snarled, "You'll never live to see it!" He dived forward into the open, snapping off two quick shots toward the spot he had pinpointed. But the return fire came from a spot about 200 feet to the right. Baxter threw himself to the ground and rolled, cursing viciously, as Leeds bolted from behind a large rock, spraying gunfire and he went.

For the next several minutes the deadly ballet continued as each maneuvered to get the advantage over the other. In the end, it was the icy conditions that proved to be Baxter's undoing. Both men darted from undercover at the same instant. Leeds managed to get off a shot but it was slightly off and the bullet struck the rock at Baxter's shoulder, sending a spray of rock chips flying in all directions. Baxter leaped away from the rain of sharp slivers as his gun snapped up to return fire. But his controlled lunge turned into a sprawl as his feet hit a thick patch of ice and he was thrown headlong onto the rocky sand near the water's edge. Baxter rolled desperately and came to his knees again, trying to bring his gun to bear on his advancing adversary, but it was too late. Leeds' shot caught him full in the chest. The force of the impact flung Baxter backwards and he landed flat on his back in the foaming surf. His gun went flying, glanced off a nearby rock and disappeared into a maze of broken boulders near the base of the cliff.

For a moment, the only sound was the thundering crash of the surf against the nearby cliffs and the high, distant cry of the gulls out over the sea. Leeds walked over and stared blankly at the man at his feet for a long instant. Suddenly, blind hatred flared in his face and he brought his gun up and deliberately fired two more shots into the dead body of his adversary. "Take that, you son of bitch!" he screamed at the dead man hoarsely. Then his arm dropped to his side and he allowed the gun to hang loosely as he swayed in exhaustion.

"Did that feel good, Leeds?" a harsh voice demanded over the sound of the surf. Leeds head snapped up and he started to raise his gun again, but the voice snapped, "Don't!" and he froze. "Stand very, very still. Don't even breathe." From behind the rocks at the base of the nearby cliff, a form moved.

"Who are you?" Leeds demanded, turning to his left to face his new adversary. A bullet struck the sand at his feet and he froze again.

"I said, 'Don't move'! Drop the gun."

Leeds stared fixedly at the spot where he had seen the earlier motion, but he didn't release his weapon.

"Drop it, I said!"

"No," he countered sharply. "Not until I know who you are." Then his eyes narrowed sharply as the form stepped out from behind the rocks. "Francesca???" he demanded, incredulously.

The young woman smiled unpleasantly, keeping the gun she held trained steadily on the government man. "Surprised?"

Leeds relaxed and laughed sourly. "Yeah, but I don't know why I should be. It would be like you to want to see the outcome of your handiwork, wouldn't it?"

"You know me, Leeds. I've never liked loose ends or unfinished business." She let the gun drop to her side casually.

"Well, it's finished now," he replied, turning away from her to look down at the dead man.

"Not quite," she replied in a hard tone.

Leeds looked up. "What?"

"There's one last loose end to take care of. Tell me, Leeds, was my father already dead when you decided to use me to get to Baxter or did you arrange to have him eliminated? Did you figure I'd be more controllable with him out of the way?"

Leeds became very still as he stared at the young woman in front of him. Quietly, he replied, "No, Francesca, I didn't have him killed. He crossed one too many people and he was killed by one of the guards. It was actually his death that brought you to my attention."

"But you lied to me about it. You used him as bait to make me do what you wanted."

"Yes," he acknowledged. "When I realized how determined you were to get both of you out of Egypt, I used that." He looked at her face and, after a minute, he added softly, "I'm sorry, Francesca. It was a lousy thing to do. But you have to understand, Baxter _**had**_ to be taken down. I'd been trying for ten years and had never been able to get close to him. You were the only person that I had come across who could help me do that. And by the time I realized the importance of you and your father, he was already dead."

"He was all I had," she said raggedly, her eyes huge and dark. "All I've ever had."

"But it's over now," he said gently, taking a tentative step forward. "You held up your end of the bargain. You're free and clear. I'll see that your record is cleared and you can even have a new identity if you want one. You can start over . . . be anything you want to be."

"Alone . . . I'm all alone . . . " She sounded like a frightened child.

Leeds stared at her, strangely disturbed by the change in the young woman. She had always seemed so hard and self-sufficient . . . a survivor. But this young woman was something different. Pity stirred in him and he said, "You could come to work for I-1. You're good . . . they'd have you in a minute. There's a place there for you if you want it."

Francesca's eyes snapped into focus and her expression hardened. Leeds watched as she changed before his eyes, like Jeckyl and Hyde. She laughed harshly. "To do what? Become your pawn? Something you can use when it suits you or throw away when you feel that it's outlived its purpose? I'm tired of being used, Leeds. You say you can give me a new life. Well, guess what? I've already got one. I've paid my debt, remember? I live with a good family, have a nice, respectable boyfriend, and will soon be going off to college. There's only one thing standing in the way of ensuring that I don't get screwed over again . . . and that would be you." Deliberately, she brought the gun up and aimed it at him again.

Leeds began backing away slowly. Carefully, he said, "Francesca, this isn't necessary. No one knew you were planted here. You were right . . . it was a rogue operation. If you want out, it's done. I walk away and forget you even exist. Your current cover is sound. It won't be questioned. I swear to you."

"And how long will it stay that way, huh? Until the next time you need something, that's how long. You will always have the threat of what you know about me to use as leverage. My father was a very good teacher. You know what one of his earliest lessons was? Never . . . **_ever_** . . . leave any loose ends behind."

The single gunshot echoed loudly in the small, enclosed inlet. As if in slow motion, Leeds looked down. He saw the scorched hole in the middle of his coat and he could feel the sudden warm wetness running down his chest. The pain came next, intense and overwhelming. He dropped to his knees. His last thought as he collapsed onto his face was to wonder why it hadn't occurred to him to wear a vest. And then he died.

Francesca stood in silence for a long moment, the gun rock steady in her hand. Finally, she lowered it and took a deep breath. It was over. All she had to do now was take care of a few minor details and then get out of here. No one would ever connect her with this. Crossing the wet sand, she stopped and gazed down at the two bodies at her feet. Baxter lay sprawled on his back, his head pointed toward the sea. Already, the foaming surf was washing around his head as the tide came in. Carefully, she leaned over and dropped the gun she held next to his out flung hand. Her smooth leather gloves would leave no prints, nor should they have blurred Baxter's prints on the weapon. It had been her good luck that when Baxter lost the weapon it had landed in a spot where she could access it. She had come armed, just in case she wasn't able to get to the weapon until after both men were dead, but it hadn't been necessary to use it. Their combat had played right into her hands . . . as had their deaths. Leeds body was even in an acceptable position. The appearance of the bodies said that they had killed each other in their ensuing struggle. There were signs of that fight all across the beach. Next, she searched for signs of her own presence. She had taken care to stay close to the waterline the entire time; what marks of her presence she was able to find would all be gone within 10 minutes or so . . . obliterated by the incoming tide. 

Finally satisfied, she turned away, keeping carefully to the foaming surf. Moving to the base of the cliff where she had secreted herself while she waited for Leeds and Baxter to appear, she drew a small, motorized skiff out of its hiding place. It had been a struggle to bring that little boat into the inlet earlier that morning without being dashed against the rocks in the heavy seas. It was only with sheer determination and a lot of luck that she had been able to accomplish it. Looking out across the calming seas, she was grateful that it would not be as difficult getting out again.

She shoved the little boat out into the water and jumped into it. She hit the starter on the electric motor and turned the boat into the waves. As she pulled away, she took one last look back at the dead men on the beach. _This is the end,_ she thought. _My past is gone. Today I start over and build a new life._

  


* * * * *

  


A knock on the door caused Benton to wearily raise his head from the back of his chair. After they had retired to the study, Race had started a roaring fire and the seven of them had sat down to wait. No one had much to say. Race had prowled restlessly until Estella coaxed him to sit down with her in one of the big wing chairs. She had allowed him to sit in the chair and put her in his lap. She had leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder and that seemed to quiet his restlessness. Hadji and Kefira had gone straight to the sofa where she had made him lie down. She cleaned the gash on his forehead and then sat beside him quietly. Outwardly she appeared calm, but Benton didn't miss the fierce way she clung to his hand or the way her other hand moved to touch his hair every few minutes. The only two of his family who seemed relatively unfazed were Jessie and Jonny. Once the two of them recovered from the shock of what had happened to Hadji, they both seemed to shrug off the entire incident. Now they sat together in another of the big wing chairs, and every so often he would hear their low voices as they spoke softly to each other. Once, he even heard Jonny laugh quietly. Benton envied them. He felt numb . . . exhausted almost beyond endurance, both physically and emotionally. For the first time since Rachel died, he found himself wishing that he was nothing but a common, ordinary person like Doug Sanderson or any of his other friends in Rockport. He was sick of having enemies he knew nothing about and of having people from all over the world bringing their troubles to his doorstep. Right now, he wished the entire world would go away and leave them alone.

"Come in," he finally called, suppressing his resentment with an effort. The door opened and Admiral Bennett stepped aside to allow Barbara Mason to precede him into the room. Her eyes swept the room swiftly and then, without a word, she turned to the young man lying on the sofa. Benton watched silently as Kefira rose to make room for the older woman. He also saw the pleading look she turned on the doctor. Barbara's reassuring smile seemed to ease some of the young woman's anxiety, and Benton suddenly found himself feeling better, as well. He waved Bennett to a chair and said quietly, "Have a seat, Admiral." Sudden, loud banging from the front of the house caused him to straighten in concern and he demanded, "What's going on out there?" Nearby, Race stiffened and Benton saw Estella stand swiftly as Race prepared to rise. But Bennett waved all of them back into their seats.

"I'm assured that there's nothing to be concerned about. Dr. Mason brought a small army with her. Both she and IRIS vouched for them all, so I went ahead and let them in."

Barbara looked up and smiled at Benton. "When Admiral Bennett called to tell me he was sending someone to get me because one of you had been hurt, he explained that some people had assaulted the Compound and had done extensive damage to the house. Judging by what he told me, I knew you would need help getting things fixed up temporarily. It's way too cold to leave things as they are. So I made some phone calls before Admiral Bennett arrived. Milt Neece and his entire building crew from Camden are here, along with a group of volunteer workers. Milt and his people are surveying the damage in the foyer, dining room and kitchen. If Milt doesn't have blueprints to you by Friday for completely rebuilding it all, I'll be seriously surprised. The others are working on getting windows boarded up, the rubble cleared and trying to get the house sealed up so that the furnace has a chance of being effective. Oh, one other thing, Admiral . . . you can expect a steady stream of local people turning up at the gate over the next couple of days. The area churches are already organizing a food chain. They'll bring meals out here daily for the family and your men until some sort of operational kitchen can get set up again. You'll want to coordinate with Mrs. Evans on that."

Benton stared at her in astonishment. "But . . . but . . . " he sputtered.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"But that wasn't necessary. We don't want to inconvenience anyone . . ."

Barbara snorted. "Try to stop them. For God's sake, Benton, it's no less than any of you have done for us when we were in trouble. Sit back and be on the receiving end for once." She smiled down at Hadji. "Well, I think you'll live, young man. You've got a hard head and it doesn't appear to be much damaged. You've got a mild concussion and a host of cuts and bruises, but that's about it. Take it easy for a couple of days and you should be fine. You want something for the headache?"

Hadji returned the smile. "No, it seems to be subsiding. I believe I will be fine."

Barbara nodded. "Okay, who's next . . ."

Kefira held out an arm to her as Benton turned to look at Admiral Bennett. "What about Baxter and his people?" he asked in a low voice.

Bennett looked grim. "Casualties were high, Dr. Quest. I won't lie to you. But they were virtually all Baxter's men. I lost two people . . . good men, both of them . . . and there were five others hurt. Dr. Mason has agreed to take a look at them when she's done here. As close as we can tell, Baxter hit this place with a force of close to 200 men. Only a handful escaped. Of those that didn't get out, only about a dozen of them lived. It was wholesale slaughter."

Benton looked sick. "I didn't alter IRIS' programming," he protested. "She didn't deliberately strike to kill . . . at least not until there was a risk of the attackers reaching the house. How could this happen?"

Bennett shook his head. "Don't blame yourself, Doctor. These men did this to themselves. When hit, they got up and came at the defenses again and again until they died. And you saw the way they attacked the open ground defenses. That was deliberate suicide. I don't understand what hold Baxter had over these men to make them so fanatical, but he definitely had something that was virtually unshakable."

"What about Baxter?" Race asked, hiking a hip up on the corner of the desk. Glancing up, they saw Barbara bending over Estella in the chair. Jonny and Jessie had also drifted over.

"No sign of him. Or of Julia, Lorenzo or Leeds." Bennett sighed. "The two men that died? It's possible that Baxter's people didn't kill them. They were found in the woods behind the lines."

"Then who . . ." Jonny started to ask, but Race interrupted him.

"You're thinking it was Leeds."

"Maybe," Bennett agreed heavily. "My men had orders to stop and detain him if he was seen in the area." Reluctantly, he added, "And if he refused to be detained, they were authorized to shoot him." Benton's wordless exclamation caused Bennett to shake his head. "No, Doctor, I didn't over-react. Leeds has turned rogue. What he did here proves that. I've suspected it might be the case for some time. Oh, I don't mean that he was an active traitor. No, it was more a case of letting his own interests take precedence over his orders. And there's no question of him quitting. You know how rare it is that the agency lets one of our agents retire. They generally know way too much for it to be an acceptable risk. Race is the only one I can think of in recent memory that has managed to accomplish it. And a man like Leeds, who is suspected of running his own operations . . . No, he is way too dangerous . . . one we can't afford as a free agent. He will be tracked down and taken into custody, and a full investigation will be done. Best case, he'll end up in jail for a very long time. Worst case . . . . " Bennett sighed. "Worst case, an investigation finds him guilty of treason and he is executed." Race bowed his head and rubbed his face wearily. Estella came over to him and slid her arms around him as she stared directly at Bennett. Something in her eyes made him shake his head again. "He was a good man once, Mrs. Bannon . . . a good man who became obsessed with bringing down an adversary and who let it consume him." After a moment, she just nodded wordlessly and tightened her arms around her husband.

After a moment, Jonny asked quietly, "How much damage is there to the outer perimeter?"

"There's a good 15 feet of the outer fence line destroyed, along with all of the monitoring and defensive equipment. They also pretty well demolished a ten-foot wide corridor through the trees at that point, and the grounds leading up to the house looks like it has been shelled by heavy artillery. And then there's the house." Bennett looked at Benton sadly. "The entire north end of the ground floor is a total loss, and I suspect the second floor isn't much better. Even if the damage isn't apparent, I'd say the structure is so undermined that it won't be safe. I'm terribly sorry, Dr. Quest. We should have stopped them before it got to that."

It was Race that answered. "Not your fault, Admiral. Whoever commanded the attack forces was smart and had a very good idea of what to expect. And there was only one person who had enough knowledge to do this kind of damage."

"Julia Canova," Benton said flatly.

Race nodded. "Julia. She knew that IRIS would target the missile launchers the instant they were used, but she also knew that they were about her only way to clear some of the defensive weapons she faced. And she was cagey enough to hold back one of them until they were in the clear and could use it against the house."

"But you said you didn't think they would try this kind of attack because they didn't want to risk damaging IRIS," Bennett protested.

Race looked grim. "My guess is that the missile attack on the house was a cover. You said you couldn't locate her or Lorenzo, right?"

"Yes, they're both missing."

"I'd say that by the time she ordered that missile launch, she knew they weren't going to get what they wanted here." He stared directly at Benton. "Julia knows you won't let anyone else have QuestWorld and she's not stupid."

"You're saying she knows the Compound is rigged to blow, just as the van was, and that I was prepared to destroy it and us to keep her from taking it," Benton replied slowly. A soft, strangled sound from behind caused all of them to turn. Barbara Mason stood, staring at them in shock. She sank slowly into the chair, her eyes never leaving Benton Quest. He returned her gaze for a long moment and then leaned his head back against the chair again in exhaustion. "She sacrificed all of those men and blew our house to hell just to cover her escape."

"That's my guess," Race agreed wearily. "That and as final retaliation for the death of Surd." He glanced at Bennett. "You won't find her . . . not here. She's long gone."

Bennett sighed and nodded. "I think you're right. I've got men running the fence line right now to make sure everything else is intact. Once that's done . . ."

A sharp knock on the study door caused all of them to look up.

"Come!" Benton called, and the door opened to admit the Lieutenant who had been in charge of the exterior defense forces outside the Compound perimeter. He saluted sharply.

"Admiral, sir, I've just received a report from the recon team checking the perimeter."

"Yes, go ahead," Bennett said as the young man paused.

"Sir, the team has found the bodies of two men in an inlet down by the south perimeter fence. Both of them have been shot."

Benton sat forward as Bennett shot to his feet. "Identities?" Bennett demanded sharply.

"One man we don't know and there was nothing on him to indicate who he was. But the other man we were able to identify, sir." The lieutenant looked uncomfortable. "It was Connor Leeds, sir."

"The second man . . . describe him."

"Middle aged, snow white hair, pale skin . . . he didn't look healthy, sir . . . like even before he died he would have been too pale . . ."

"Baxter," Bennett said grimly. "So Leeds got him in the end after all. Any sign of what happened, Lieutenant?"

"Both bodies were half immersed in water. The tide's coming in. But by all appearances, the two of them fought. There's signs of a struggle all over the beach. It looks like they shot each other, sir."

Race rose as Bennett turned toward the door. "Hang on, Admiral. I'm coming with you."

"So am I," Benton added. He turned to the others. "I want the rest of you to stay here. Hadji needs to rest and shouldn't be left alone. I'd also like you to touch base with our friends. And Barbara . . ." He turned to the woman who had recovered from the shock of the overheard conversation and had risen with the others.

Reaching out, she caught his hands and looked at him closely. "You weren't hurt? I didn't have a chance to look at you."

"No," he replied, squeezing her hands with a smile. "I'm fine. No damage."

"You should rest, though. You're exhausted."

"I will. I just need to see to a few more things first. I really do appreciate your coming. We've been a lot of trouble for you recently."

She smiled back. "You're never any trouble. Well, if I'm finished here, I'd better check on the others. Admiral, do you have someone who can show me where you've put the injured?"

Bennett gestured to the lieutenant, who turned to her and said, "If you'll come with me, ma'am, I'll have one of the guards escort you."

With a final smile and a gentle squeeze, Barbara released Benton's hands and followed the young man out.

"Come on, Benton . . . Admiral. Let's go see what we've got," Race said briskly.

  


* * * * *

  


It was dusk before everyone congregated in the study once again. A wide variety of food was spread out on the desk, as well as being distributed to the government troops out on the grounds. Milt Neece had just left for the night, taking all of the local volunteers with him. He had promised Benton a draft of the construction needed to repair the house first thing the next morning.

"So what was the verdict, Benton?" Estella asked, handing him a heaping plate of food. "Are they going to have to take down the second floor?"

"Yes," he replied, accepting the plate and a steaming cup of coffee. "The floor structure was too undermined to be trustworthy. First thing tomorrow morning we'll have to get upstairs and remove everything from the staircase north. Milt assures me the structure is sound enough to tolerate that, although he does want me to let his people remove the heavier furniture and worktables from my room." He grimaced. "I guess we can put it all in the game room while they work on the house."

"Has anyone been upstairs?" Jessie asked, swallowing hastily. "How much was damaged?"

"I was up there," Jonny replied. "It could be a lot worse. The concussion broke most of the windows and a lot of glass stuff on that end of the house." He looked apologetically at his father. "I think your computer is a total loss, Dad. The force of the explosion dislodged one of the big bookcases and it came down right across your desk. There's not much left."

Benton shrugged philosophically. "Better the desk than one of us."

"Speaking of it not being one of us," Race said, "how the hell did you get out of the kitchen without being incinerated, Hadji?"

Jessie looked at her friend. "Yeah, I want to know that, too. You couldn't have gotten out of there without me seeing you. I just about died when you came staggering out of the back of the house!"

Hadji grinned from his relaxed position on the sofa. "I was not in the kitchen. The power pack on my rifle was exhausted and I needed a replacement. I decided that I did not want our enemies seeing me leaving that end of the house vulnerable, so I left via the old servant's corridor that ran along the back of the house." He looked a bit rueful. "Not much of it is left any longer, I am afraid. I knew I needed to get to Race's quarters because I had used all the spare packs in the family room storage cabinet and I needed to get to the ones in the charger. I was about halfway down the corridor when the explosion occurred. I was thrown forward and cracked my head on the doorframe of the exit. It took me a few minutes to get my wits back and fumble my way out in the dark, and by that time Admiral Bennett had the situation in hand. I am sorry if I distressed any of you."

Jessie gazed heavenward and muttered, " 'Distressed any of us,' he says." She shook her head. "Forget it, Hadj. At least you're in one piece and that's all that matters."

"What about Leeds?" Estella asked quietly, changing the subject.

Race sighed. "Dead. There's no question about it. And so is Baxter. How they both ended up down there, I have no idea, but it's an absolute certainty that they killed each other during a fight." He paused, thinking. His expression said they weren't particularly pleasant thoughts. "I don't know that I've ever known anyone as fanatical as Connor Leeds. It was just his nature. He'd get fixated on an idea and he was like a steamroller . . . nothing would stand in his way. And if anyone or anything tried? Well, he'd just roll right over them. For almost as long as I've known him, he was determined to bring Baxter down. It had reached the level of a personal obsession. I guess, in the end, he managed to accomplish it."

"Yes, but at what price?" Estella muttered softly to herself, turning away. The silence that followed was heavy. Finally, Kefira asked,

"Was there any sign of Julia?"

It was Bennett who replied. "No, although we do know for certain that she was there. So was her brother, Lorenzo. One of the captured mercenaries said that she was in charge of the assault, but no one saw either of them after the force breached the perimeter and got into the trees on the other side of the fence."

Race looked thoughtful. "It's not like Julia to take on lost causes. I'm guessing that with Surd gone, any heart she had for working for Baxter evaporated. I'd bet she bailed as soon as she saw an opening. We'll never find her now."

"We'll find her," Bennett replied grimly. "One way or the other."

The silence in the room lengthened. Finally, Benton sighed wearily and said, "You know, at this point, I really don't care. All I want is some peace and quiet. I'm tired of fighting and I'm tired of death. I know that's a narrow point of view, but it's the way I feel."

"You have the right to that feeling, Doctor Quest," Bennett replied. "You didn't ask for any of this and I'm sorry you ended up in the middle."

Benton shrugged. "Goes with the territory, unfortunately. I've always known that. It's just that so much has happened recently. Do you realize, Admiral, that in less than three months I've been forced to face the death of both of my sons, as well that of my best friend and his wife? My enemies have been determined to take away those things I consider the most valuable." He laid his head back against the headrest of his chair and closed his eyes. "I'm tired, Admiral . . . more tired than I've ever been in my entire life. I just want everyone to leave us alone."

Bennett was at a loss for words. He'd known Benton Quest for a long time and he never remembered seeing him like this. Both Jonny and Hadji rose immediately and crossed to their father. Once again, Bennett was forcibly struck by the impression of guardians as they flanked their father.

"It's okay, Dad," Jonny said softly grasping Benton's right hand. "We're tough and none of us are going to leave you alone."

Hadji laid a hand on Benton's left shoulder. "We have been together through a great deal, Father, and we are not finished yet."

"And you have more than just Jonny and Hadji, now," Jessie added, kneeling down at the foot of his chair and laying a hand on his knee.

"Yes," Kefira agreed, joining Jessie. "You have all of us. We will always be there when you need us."

It was oddly reassuring, Bennett thought, watching the Quest clan form up around Benton. It had been a long time since he'd seen this kind of unity. He found himself feeling envious and more than a bit lonely. After a moment, he shook himself and repeated,

"Don't worry, Doctor. We'll find Julia and make sure she leaves you alone."


	16. Epilog Saturday, April 16

**Epilog**

  


Saturday, April 16

  


Quest Compound

  


Admiral Bennett was surprised to find the main gate of the Quest Compound standing open when he approached it on that evening in early spring. Around him, the snow had melted and the first signs of new leaves and spring flowers were still visible in the rapidly dying daylight. After a moment's hesitation, Bennett drove on through and headed toward the main house. Benton Quest was expecting him and he assumed that was the reason the gate was standing open. However, he revised that analysis the second he emerged from the trees and saw the main house. It was fully reconstructed . . . looking as though it had never been damaged at all. It was ablaze with lights and everywhere he looked he saw cars parked bumper-to-bumper. He ended up parking his government-issued Ford Taurus clear back near the tree line and crossing the final distance up to the house on foot. As he neared the house, the sounds of music and laughter could be heard on the early evening air. He crossed the front terrace and knocked. After a moment, the door opened to reveal the laughing countenance of a young woman that he had never seen before.

"Hi!" she greeted him gaily. "Come on in. No one's being real formal, so make yourself at home. Food's in there," she said pointing toward the kitchen, and then gestured toward the family room and said, "and the band's in there. Just help yourself!" With that, she wandered off, leaving Bennett standing in the open doorway. He stepped over the threshold and looked around, somewhat bemused. The house was packed. Everywhere he looked he saw teenagers milling around, laughing and talking. And the din was incredible. It appeared the band the girl referred to played alternative rock music and the volume was impressive. Bennett closed the door behind him and moved slowly through the throng. Friendly smiles greeted him as he struggled through the crowd, looking for anyone that seemed familiar. Finally, he stopped a young man, and raising his voice above the music, he yelled,

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where I can find Benton Quest?"

"Haven't seen him in quite a while," the young man yelled back. He turned to a girl who stood nearby and called, "Hey, Cyndee, have you seen Jonny's dad?"

Cyndee shook her head but then motioned toward another girl standing in the doorway listening to the band. "Ask Mary," she mouthed. The young man nodded and, catching Bennett's arm, he drew him toward the young woman. She seemed to sense their approach and turned to greet them. Bennett stared at her, startled. Her dark make up, excessive jewelry, and black clothes seemed out of place in this mob of clean-cut, all-American kids. However, his escort didn't seem the least bit put off by her appearance.

"Hey, Mary, how you doin'?! I didn't see you come in!"

She smiled up at him and replied, "Been around. I'm good. How about you?"

"Five-by-five!"

"Cool." She looked at Bennett speculatively. "Who's your friend?"

The young man shrugged. "Got me. Lookin' for Dr. Quest. You seen him?"

"In the kitchen, last I knew."

The young man turned to Bennett. "You might try there."

"I will. Thank you," Bennett replied, turning away from the couple.

"No sweat," the boy replied and turned back to his gothic companion.

Shaking his head slightly, Bennett turned and pushed his way through the crowd toward the kitchen. As he approached the swinging door, it opened and Kefira backed through it, carrying a large tray loaded with finger food. She turned and then stopped abruptly, eyeing Bennett in surprise.

"Admiral! How good to see you again, sir."

"At last, a familiar face!" he exclaimed in relief and Kefira laughed. "I'm hunting for Dr. Quest. He should be expecting me. Do you know where I can find him?"

She shook her head. "I have not seen him in a while, but Race is in the kitchen and perhaps he knows where Dr. Quest is." She extended the tray to him. "Can I offer you something?"

Bennett grinned and snared a couple of the hors d'oeurves, then pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen. This room was crowded with young people, too. Many of them stood around the kitchen table snacking on the various trays of food that filled its surface. On the far side of the room, leaning against the kitchen sink, Bennett spotted Race Bannon. With him were Jonny Quest, Hadji Singh, and a familiar-looking young man of medium height and brown hair. As Bennett approached, he heard the young man say,

"The doctors are finally saying that he will recover, given time. There'll be a lot of surgery and stuff, but they seem to think he'll be good as new eventually."

"How much of the accident does he remember?" Jonny asked.

"Most of it, actually. It's been coming back to him, piece-by-piece, ever since he woke up. It's been slow going, but he says it's all pretty much clear to him now. He even remembers her making him fall." The young man sighed. "And he says that the whole thing was his own fault. They'd been fighting and he was mad. She didn't want him to make the run and he was determined to do it to prove a point. He said he knew he was in trouble from the instant he hit the slope and realized how icy it was, but by that time it was too late."

Race glanced up and spotted Bennett. "Admiral! I heard you were planning to stop by today."

Bennett took the proffered hand and shook it firmly. "Didn't expect it to be quite this late, though. Got delayed getting out of Washington. I hope I'm not interrupting anything . . ."

Race laughed. "Not for me, you aren't. I'm just an innocent bystander tonight. This is the kids' doing."

Bennett grinned at the two young men. "I take it this must be your belated Christmas party."

Jonny grinned. "Yeah. What with the damage to the house and then Hadji and Kefira heading off to school, this is the first chance we've had to reschedule."

"Good crowd."

"Not bad," Jonny agreed. Turning to the other young man, he gestured to Bennett. "Do you remember Matt Evans, Admiral? Matt, this is Admiral Bennett."

"Of course, although I'm afraid we weren't formally introduced the last time. Pleasure to meet you, son," Bennett said, shaking the offered hand.

"Thank you. Although I wasn't really very with it then, I _do_ remember you. And I'm glad to have the chance to thank you for your help at Christmas."

"You're quite welcome."

Jonny turned back to Matt. "You say Bobby remembers the entire day?" Matt nodded. "She had nothing to do with it, then?"

"You mean, did she instigate it? Not according to Bobby, and I have to say that I'm starting to believe him. She's been nothing but attentive and caring ever since he woke up."

"Whom are we talking about?" Bennett asked.

"Francesca Hamilton," Jonny replied distastefully.

Matt shook his head. "You hit it on the head with what you said at Christmas, Jonny. The instant any of us said a bad word about her, Bobby began pulling away. He simply won't listen."

"Then, perhaps, it is time that you quit trying," Hadji said softly. Matt looked at him in disbelief, but Hadji held up his hand, forestalling Matt's heated comments. "A wise man knows when and what battles to fight, my friend, and which ones to walk away from." Hadji looked at his friend sadly. "All of us may be correct and Francesca may be using him for her own purposes, but the fact is, Bobby is not prepared to acknowledge that. At this time, it is probably better to allow him to go his own way. We can prove nothing against her and to continue insisting that she has bad intentions will do nothing more than alienate Bobby and drive him further away."

"What about Marla?" Matt demanded.

"There is nothing you can do about Marla, Matt," Race said gently. "I know it upsets you to see her so unhappy, but the relationship between her and your brother is not your business. Be her friend and be as supportive as you can be . . . to both of them. It's really all you can do."

Matt sighed. "I suppose." Then he looked up at Jonny. "You know that Bobby wanted me to bring her tonight."

"Who?"

"Francesca."

"He wanted you to bring Francesca **here**? Tonight?" Jonny replied, incredulously. "Why?"

Matt sighed again. "It was a test, I think. To see if you really meant it when you told him that you were prepared to accept his decision about being with her."

"What did you do?" Jonny demanded.

"Told him I couldn't bring her . . . that I already had a date."

"Who did you bring?" Hadji asked curiously. "I did not see you arrive."

"Marla."

All of them winced. "I'll bet that didn't go over very well," Jonny commented.

"No, not much." Matt frowned in frustration. "You know, I just don't get it. He was the one who broke off their relationship, but for some reason he seems to be angry with _Marla_ . . . like it was her fault or something. She hasn't given him any grief about it. In fact, she's made it a point to stay out of their way. He was seriously pissed when I told him I was bringing her to this, and we argued about it. But as I pointed out to him, Marla has lived in this community all her life and she's been a close friend of Jessie's since she started staying here. Marla wouldn't have come alone. She's still too devastated from the breakup with Bobby. But I managed to talk her into coming with me."

"Was Bobby still angry about it when you left?" Race asked.

"Well, he said he wasn't, but I don't know. It's hard to tell what he's thinking these days. But I think he saw the logic in my argument."

"I hope so," Jonny said.

A short silence ensued. Finally, Hadji stirred. "I wonder what happened to Kefira? She should have been back by now."

An evil grin appeared on Jonny's face. "She wasn't planning on coming right back."

Hadji looked at his brother with misgiving. "Why? Where was she going to go?"

"To find Jessie. I believe story hour has begun."

Race looked mystified as Hadji stiffened. Jonny's grin widened. "You **know** that Jessie promised to get all of the girls together at this party."

"No!" Hadji gasped, suddenly turning pale.

"Yep. By this time they should be deeply into swapping Hadji stories." Without another word, Hadji turned and fled. Jonny laughed and the others joined him. 

Grinning, Race commented, "I take it my daughter is putting Hadji on the hot seat." "You betcha," Jonny agreed with a grin. "Kefira's been dying to hear stories about Hadji's former girlfriends and Jess promised to give her a good dose of them."

Bennett shook his head, chuckling. "You two are quite devious when you put your minds to it." 

"Lots of practice," Jonny laughed. 

Bennett grinned as he picked up his briefcase. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't keep Dr. Quest waiting any longer. Do you gentlemen know where I might find him in this throng?" 

Race shot a quick glance toward Jonny, as all the humor fled from the young man's face. Jonny stiffened and his eyes grew stormy and dark, as he replied coldly, "No. _**I'm**_ not my father's babysitter." He straightened and started for the door. "I'd better go after Hadji." With obvious effort, his mouth twisted into a cruel imitation of its usual wry grin as he gestured at Matt Evans. "He'll make a fool of himself if I don't. Coming, Matt?" 

With a puzzled look from Jonny to Bennett, Matt replied hesitantly, "Sure . . . I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

Forcing one last bit of courtesy, Jonny nodded toward Bennett, "See ya later, Admiral," then hastily made his way out of the kitchen with Matt trailing behind him. 

Mystified, Bennett's gaze lingered on the swinging door for a long moment after the two young men had disappeared. At last, he turned to Race with a confused expression. "What just happened?" 

A shadow of weariness and pain crossed Race's features for a moment, then quickly disappeared. "Nothing you need to be concerned with, Admiral." 

Bennett hesitated, then decided that whatever was going on was probably not any of his business. Clearing his throat, he tried again, "I really should find Dr. Quest..." 

Race shook himself and replied, "Of course, Admiral. He's around here somewhere. Let's see if we can find him." Leading the way, Race left the kitchen. As they passed the family room door, Race tapped his guest on the shoulder and gestured. Bennett spotted Benton near the big picture windows talking to a young woman he didn't know. Race raised his hand and waved. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Benton looked up. Race pointed toward the study and Bennett saw Benton nod. Turning back to Bennett, Race said, "Come on, Admiral. He'll join us shortly."

Race had just handed Bennett a snifter of brandy when the study door opened and both Benton and Estella slipped in. As the door closed, the din from the party became little more than a dim background murmur. Benton crossed to his desk and began to pour two additional glasses of brandy, as Estella joined her husband. Handing one of the glasses to Estella, Benton sank gratefully into his large desk chair with a sigh.

"Whew! What a madhouse."

"I thought the original guest list was only about 25 people or so," Race commented .

Estella laughed. "It was. But the business at Christmas caused a real sensation. Then there was all the suspense of rebuilding. It became such a source of interest that the whole thing just kind of snowballed. I think the final invitation ended up being a poster on the school wall that became "come one, come all" and everyone seems to have taken them up on it. Jessie said that there are kids here from all up and down the coast."

"Looks like our wedding reception," Race agreed with a laugh.

"Is this a good idea?" Bennett questioned, frowning. "IRIS isn't even screening visitors at the gate."

"Take it easy, Admiral," Race said. "The place may look open and undefended, but it's not. All the security has been repaired and upgraded and IRIS is screening all guests for weapons. I've also got all the security-sensitive parts of the house and the lighthouse locked down."

"Furthermore," Estella added softly, "our kids deserve this. It's not often they're allowed to throw a party and they need to unwind, too." She glanced worriedly toward Benton. "It hasn't been an easy six months for any of us."

"That's true," Bennett agreed absently as he followed her gaze. He was disturbed by what he saw. Benton Quest looked even more worn than when Bennett had last seen him at Christmas. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and he appeared extremely tired and strained. 

"Things are secure enough, Admiral," Benton commented neutrally. "So what brings you here today? You didn't say when you called to let me know you were coming."

Bennett leaned back, trying to relax. Taking a sip of his brandy, he replied, "Nothing dire. This is just the first break I've had recently and I thought you would like an update about the outcome of the mess at Christmas." Everyone nodded. "I'll start with the bad news first. We've been totally unable to locate either Julia or Lorenzo. They both seem to have vanished off the face of the planet."

"No surprise there," Race said. "Julia's always had the knack for disappearing when she wants to."

"I guess the one consolation is that she doesn't seem to be actively causing mayhem these days."

"That's something," Estella said with a grimace.

"What about Baxter's organization?" Benton asked.

"Gone," Bennett replied with obvious satisfaction. "Mr. Singh's computer virus obviously did the trick. His people must have scattered like rats from a sinking ship. We caught a number of them, including some rather big fish. One of them was a research scientist by the name of Nydek. He seems a bit addled, but we got some interesting stuff from him."

Benton sat forward abruptly. "_Peter_ Nydek?" he demanded harshly.

Bennett looked startled. "Yes. Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation. That man is vermin!" Benton spat. The other three stared at him in astonishment. This wasn't like Benton Quest at all. After a moment, Race asked carefully,

"Who is he?"

Benton's eyes flared with anger as he turned toward his friend. "You should know him, Race. He was Surd's mentor. Specialized in nerve and poisonous gases. Started his work during WWII and never stopped. Used to like to experiment on human subjects at any opportunity." He looked back at Bennett. "There's the source of the gas that was used at Brattleford Prison. I'd stake my reputation on it! Trust me when I say, Peter Nydek is no more addled than you or I. It's an act."

Bennett looked grim. "It sounds like I'm going to need to have another chat with the good doctor."

"What did he tell you?" Race asked.

"Gave us a few other names. One of the reasons I'm here is that I wanted to run those by you to see if they meant anything. He also gave us the locations of a few of Baxter's hidden facilities - including the one in Portsmouth - and told us about what happened when the computer virus actually began to attack their systems." Bennett looked at Benton hopefully. "I don't suppose there's a chance in hell that you'd be willing to give us that code . . . ?" His half-hearted query was met with absolute silence. "No, I didn't think so." Bennett shrugged philosophically. "Oh well, it was worth asking . . ."

Race snorted. "What did you find at the Portsmouth facility?"

"It was seriously eerie. The place was neat enough . . . just looked like everyone had gotten up and walked away. But everything electronic was dead . . . nothing worked. And from what our computer analysts tell me, all of the hardware was destroyed. Nothing salvageable. That was a nasty bug, Doctor."

Benton nodded. "Hadji designed it to be. Even down to the hardware. He told me later it was the best way he could find to ensure that no one could stop the action of the virus and analyze it. I take it there's no sign that it spread beyond the boundaries of Baxter's systems."

"Not a trace of it anywhere else, and we've been watching for it very, very closely ever since we got a look at Baxter's operations center. Gave me a few sleepless nights, let me tell you."

"Hadji would never have released it if there was any chance it could spread beyond its target," Estella commented.

"No, he wouldn't have," Benton agreed. "It goes against his very nature to even design something like this. It was one thing to create it as a failsafe for QuestWorld, but something totally different to alter it into a virus that was to be deliberately released to do damage. Anything less than a direct threat to this family and he probably would have refused to do it."

"So what else did Nydek tell you?" Race asked, leaning back and making himself more comfortable. The four of them settled in and quickly became engrossed in their conversation.

  


* * * * *

  


Jonny shoved the kitchen door open and paused, listening to the silence. The house seemed like a tomb compared to the chaos of the last several hours. It was nearing 1:00 a.m. and guests had been drifting out for the last hour. Wondering where Jessie was, he walked toward the front of the house. The low murmur of voices from the family room caused Jonny to move in that direction. He stopped in the doorway and leaned against the jamb with a grin.

"Hey, guys. Still here, huh?"

"Yeah," Mike Short replied lazily from his reclined position on the sofa. "Haven't worked up the ambition to leave yet."

Mary Oldham, who sat on the floor beside him, laughed and leaned her head back against his arm. "It has nothing to do with ambition. He's just had a good time and doesn't want it to be over." 

Jonny chuckled. "Good. That was the idea." Shoving himself upright, he crossed to his father's reading chair. Reaching out, he caught Jessie's hand, drew her to her feet, and then sat down, pulling her into his lap.

"Well, that's one way to find a place to sit," Marla said with a laugh. "Although, I'm sure Mike would give you a spot on the sofa."

"What fun would that be?" Jonny replied, cuddling Jessie. Eyeing Hadji, who sprawled comfortably on the floor not far from the fireplace, he added, "If anyone needs a seat, it's probably Kefira. It's not nice to make guests sit on the floor, Hadj."

"Mind your own business," Hadji replied without heat. He tightened his arm around his fiancée and leaned more firmly against the large hassock, sliding a bit further down on his tailbone. Kefira just grinned and snuggled contentedly against his shoulder. Everyone chuckled.

"Well, guys, this party was a smashing success," Matt said. "Congratulations. Definitely worth waiting for."

"We did have a good crowd," Jessie agreed.

"I'll say," Jonny said. "I'm not even sure I knew everyone that came. There were a lot of faces I couldn't place at all."

"Yes, but I do not believe there were any complete strangers," Hadji commented. "I paid attention after I began to see people I did not know and the strangers seemed to be dates of friends or acquaintances."

"I'm a little surprised you opened it up as much as you did," Mary said. "I mean, with what happened at Christmas and all."

Jonny shrugged. "What are we supposed to do . . . shut ourselves up and hide behind the fences? That's no life."

"But weren't you worried about one of your enemies taking advantage of the opportunity to cause some trouble?" Mary insisted.

It was Jessie that replied. "Not really. The people we had the trouble with at Christmas aren't a threat any longer and no one else right now seems to have it in for us."

"That you know about," Matt added dryly.

Jonny laughed. "Trust me. When someone decides to take a dislike to us, we generally find out about it pretty quick."

That got a laugh from everyone. For a while, idle conversation drifted around the room. Finally, Matt looked at Jonny and said hesitantly, "Hey, Jonny, I was wondering . . . "

"Yeah?" Jonny replied sleepily.

"Well, I kinda noticed . . . earlier . . . that you . . . well . . ."

Jonny raised his head and looked at his friend quizzically. "What?"

"Well, I noticed that you were kind of short with Admiral Bennett earlier . . . when he asked about your dad . . . and I was wondering . . ." Matt trailed off as Jonny's face suddenly froze. 

"You were wondering what?" Jonny asked irritably. 

Matt glanced over at Hadji who was gesturing at him frantically. As Hadji caught Matt's eye, he shook his head violently. "Oh nothing," Matt said hastily.

Jonny glanced over at his brother and then back at his friend again. "No, ask your question."

Matt took a deep breath and said, "Are you and your dad having problems?"

Tension slowly stole over Jonny's frame and his jaw set in a hard line. "Yeah," Jonny replied tersely. "We don't have much to say to each other these days."

"But . . . what happened?" Mary asked, bewildered. "You and your dad always got along so well . . ."

Jessie flicked an unreadable look toward Hadji, then snuggled up against Jonny, wrapping an arm around his waist and rubbing his back soothingly. "Let's not go there," she replied quietly. "Not tonight. This has been such fun. I really don't want to spoil it."

"I agree," Hadji put in quickly, glancing anxiously at Jonny.

Matt looked at his three friends for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Sorry, man. None of my business. Forget it." After a minute, Jonny nodded in acknowledgement and Matt felt the tension in the room drop by degrees as his friend started to relax again. He was beginning to understand how Keanu Reeves felt after diffusing the bomb in "Speed".

"Well, I'm just glad everything went so well tonight," Marla said awkwardly, trying to change the subject. "And I'm really glad I came."

"I'm glad you came, too," Jessie said, sitting up slightly. "I was a little afraid that you wouldn't."

Marla's smile dimmed and she shrugged. "I guess I've finally come realize that I can hide or I can get on with my life. Hiding doesn't seem to serve much purpose and it hasn't made me feel any better, so I guess I gotta move on."

"Marla . . . " Jessie began earnestly, but Marla cut her off with a swift shake of her head.

"No, Jessie. It's over. Bobby's made his choice. I have to respect that."

"It won't last, Marla," Jonny said quietly.

Matt rose from his chair and crossed over to the loveseat. Sitting down beside her, Matt took Marla's hand and squeezed it sympathetically. Returning the gesture, she smiled sadly. "It really doesn't matter, Jonny. Whatever happens, I can't go back. All I can do now is hope that he finds happiness with Francesca and move on with my own life."

"Well, _**I**_ hope he stays out of trouble," Matt said darkly. "Aunt Martha calls Francesca a devil and I'm not so sure she isn't right about that. Bobby's changed since he's gotten involved with her and none of it is for the better."

"Changed how?" Hadji asked.

Matt shrugged irritably. "It's hard to put your finger on, but there's a difference." Matt frowned, thinking hard. "He's restless and discontent. All of a sudden, nothing seems to be good enough. And it's like there's anger simmering under the surface all the time. He and Dad fight almost every time they're in the same room, and he's recently taken to snapping at Mom. Hell, he even got into it with _**me**_ the other day."

"Over what?" Jessie asked, surprised. "The two of you never fight!"

Matt shifted uncomfortably and Marla tightened her grip on his hand, "It was my fault. I lost my temper with him after he yelled at Mom. Not that it helped any . . . it only makes him more angry."

Jonny shook his head. "He must be crazy. I'm really sorry about all of this. I feel responsible."

"What for?" Mary demanded. "You didn't cause this. If anything, you've tried your best to warn all of us about what she's like."

"Yes, but I get the feeling that she came back here because of me. And that put her in Bobby's path." He looked at Marla soberly. "I understand how you feel, Marla . . . about making choices and needing to move on. I wish you luck." None of the others missed the swift, uneasy look that flew between Jessie and Hadji. "If you need anything," Jonny added softly, "all you need to do is ask, okay?" There was a murmur of assent from the others, as well.

"Thanks," she replied softly.

After a moment, Matt sighed and said, "I suppose we should think about heading home, Marla. Are you about ready?"

Marla glanced around the room at the mess and turned back to Jessie. "You need help cleaning up?"

Jessie shook her head. "No, thanks. I don't have the heart for it tonight. It'll keep until in the morning. I'll just warn Dr. Quest that we're leaving it and that we'll take care of the clean-up tomorrow . . . or, well, later today!" Matt got up and walked into the other room as Marla rose and smiled at Jessie.

"Okay. I'll be happy to come back out later and help, if you'd like."

"Why don't you give me a call after lunch and see how far we've gotten."

"Sounds good."

"Here's your jacket, Marla," Matt said, appearing suddenly from the foyer. He held it for her as she shrugged into it. "Was there anything else we needed to take with us?" She shook her head. "Okay, then I think we're set. Thanks again, guys. This was great." He grinned and shook his head at Jonny. "No, don't get up. We know our way out."

"We still planning on going climbing next weekend?" Jonny asked, settling back again.

"Sounds good to me," Matt replied. "Give me a call later in the week and we'll confirm."

Jonny nodded. "Later!"

Matt put his arm around Marla's shoulders and guided her toward the door. After a moment, the remaining friends heard the front door close and a car start. They all listened quietly until the sound of the car had faded into the distance. 

Finally, Mike murmured, "Oh man, did you see his face when he held her coat?" After a moment, he added quietly, "How long do you suppose that's going to go on before it all blows up?"

"Not long," Jonny replied heavily. "A better question is how long has Matt had a thing for Marla?"

"A long time," Mary replied. "At least since their freshman year in high school."

"I had no idea . . ." Jessie said, surprised.

"No one else did, either," Mary sadly. "I may have been the only one who knew. It was only by sheer chance that I found out about it, and I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone. He never would have said a word, you know. He would have stood back and let Bobby have her, no matter how much he cared or how much it hurt. But now he's floundering. He doesn't know what to do any more. This business with Francesca really blindsided him."

"Yeah, it would," Jonny agreed. "He's not good at shielding himself from the pain of people that matter to him."

"It's just killing him seeing her so miserable."

"Has he said anything to Marla?" Kefira questioned.

Mary shook her head. "I don't think so." 

"Does he need to?" Jonny asked. "It's so obvious . . ."

"Not to Marla," Jessie responded with a shake of her head. "She's just starting to get back on her feet and she's not really conscious of things like that right now. To be honest, I'm not sure how she'll take it once she realizes the way he really feels."

"I wondered the same thing," Kefira agreed. "He may not have a chance with her. In her place, I am not sure I would be willing to consider dating the twin brother of the man who just broke my heart. I do not think I would be able to look at him without thinking about his brother and everything that had happened between us."

Everyone was quiet, thinking about that. Finally, Hadji shook his head. "I do not know. The two of them are so different. Perhaps, because she has known both of them for so long, she can see beyond their physical appearance."

"Maybe," Jonny replied, "but I don't like to think about how much this will hurt all three of them. Bobby and Matt have been like Siamese twins from the day they were born. This has the potential to shatter that closeness forever." He paused and then added bitterly, "Another notch on Francesca's bedpost."

"I believe you are right, Jonny," Hadji said. "Even though Bobby was the one who chose to break off the relationship, I doubt he will take this well. Matt said his decision to bring Marla here made him angry. I do not like to think of how he will take the news that Matt really cares for her. And if he and Francesca do not work out, things will only go from bad to worse."

"You got that right. I have the feeling things are going to get really ugly." Mike agreed. With a sigh, he sat up and looked at Mary. "You ready to head out, babe? I think I have just enough energy to get us home."

"Yes, I'm ready. I'll get my coat." 

Mike nodded. "Well, guys, we're out of here. Thanks again for the great time."

Everyone else rose, as well, and they all moved out into the entryway. Arm-in-arm, Jonny and Jessie moved to the front door and opened it, leaning lazily against the doorjamb as Mike helped Mary put on her jacket. They all wandered out into the front courtyard, following the couple out to their car. 

"Call me if you get a clean up detail together, Jessie," Mary directed as they got into the vehicle. 

"I'll let you know if we need the help," Jessie promised. Suddenly, she stopped. "Wait! I need to get all of those serving trays you brought. We ended up not needing them and there's no reason to leave them here. Hang on for a second and I'll go get them." Slipping out of Jonny's arm she hurried back into the house. As Hadji and Kefira chatted quietly with Mary, Mike gestured to Jonny. Rounding the car to the driver's side, Jonny leaned against the door and said,

"What's up?"

Mike gave him a long, hard look. Finally, he replied in a soft voice, "Just this. I don't know what the trouble is between you and your dad, but whatever it is, when you're ready to talk about it, all you need to do is call. I'm here to listen." Mike quickly held up a forestalling hand as he saw Jonny stiffen again. "I'm not gonna push you, okay? I'm just saying that when you need someone outside your family to talk to . . . someone who's been down that road . . . you know where to find me. Got it?"

Slowly, Jonny nodded. "Got it. Thanks, man. I may take you up on it one of these days."

Just then, Jessie returned and handed the various pans through the window to Mary. With a chorus of goodbyes, they waved as their friends drove off, then turned and reentered the house.

"IRIS, allow the car to clear the main gate, then secure the perimeter and run a complete Compound security check. Notify us of any abnormalities," Hadji commanded.

"ACKNOWLEDGED," the computer replied. "FRONT GATE SECURE. COMMENCING SECURITY CHECK."

"Has anyone seen Dr. Quest, Race or Estella recently?" Kefira asked as the four of them wandered back toward the family room.

Hadji laughed. "They abandoned us as soon as Admiral Bennett showed up. Is the Admiral still here?"

Kefira nodded. "He was about half an hour ago. I walked Cyndee and Becca out and I noticed his car still parked by the treeline."

Hadji looked startled. "What was it doing all the way out there?"

"I would say that was the closest he could get. Most of the guests were already here before he arrived." 

Kefira chuckled suddenly. "You should have seen his face when I ran into him hunting for Dr. Quest. He looked very lost."

Jessie grinned. "I don't imagine he was expecting the chaos he found when he arrived. What do you say we go find them and see what's up? They're probably in the study."

Jonny had been silent all the way back to the house, but at this suggestion, he finally spoke up. "You guys go ahead," he replied wearily. "I'm gonna make sure that the perishable stuff got put away and then head on up to bed."

"Jonny . . ." Hadji started, but Jonny cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Please, Hadj, we've been through this already and I just don't want to talk about it any more."

"He _is_ very sorry, Jonny. I am sure he is. And he knows that he made a mistake. You need to give him a chance . . ."

"Do I?" Jonny snapped. "Why? What the hell did I ever do to deserve this?" With an impatient gesture, he waved his brother to silence. "I agree with what Jessie said earlier. This has been a good day. Let's not ruin it by going over old ground again." With that, he turned and disappeared into the dining room.

Hadji turned a pleading look on Jessie. "Can you talk with him? Make him see reason? This estrangement is half killing Father."

Jessie bowed her head, staring at the floor for a long time. Finally, she sighed and looked at him again. "What would you have me say to him, Hadji? What _**can**_ I say that won't sound like I approve of what Dr. Quest did? It was **wrong**, Hadj. We all know that. And it's shaken every ounce of faith that Jonny ever had in him. There's nothing I can say that will fix this. Only the two of them can work it out."

"But Jonny won't even talk to him!"

"And Dr. Quest won't admit that what he did was wrong."

"Both are going to have to give a little bit if this situation is to be resolved," Kefira put in quietly. "But one of them will have to make the first move."

"And neither are prepared to do that yet," Jessie replied. She shook her head. "I've tried to be reasonable, Hadji, and I've tried to find ways to soften things. But I'm out of excuses. And when it comes right down to it and I'm forced to pick sides, you know the way I feel." She nodded toward the study. "Why don't you and Kefira go find out why Admiral Bennett's here. I'm gonna go check on Jonny."

As Jessie disappeared into the kitchen, Hadji's shoulders slumped in defeat. Kefira reached out and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him and murmuring soft soothing sounds. After a moment, Hadji pulled back and looked at her helplessly. "What do I do, Kefira? We cannot go on like this. Our family is being torn apart and I can think of no way to stop it!"

Kefira gazed at him with compassion and love. "There is nothing you _can_ do, beloved. They must work this out for themselves." She reached up and touched his face gently. "It will be all right, Hadji. You must just give it time. Come. Let us see why Admiral Bennett is here."

  


* * * * *

  


Serious discussion had died away to desultory conversation long before the knock on the door interrupted them.

"Come!" Benton called. 

The door opened slowly and Hadji and Kefira entered. "Hello," Kefira said pleasantly. "May we join you?"

"Is everyone gone?" Benton questioned, waving them to chairs.

"Mike and Mary just left," Hadji agreed. "They were the last. You all disappeared early. You were welcome to stay."

"Too loud for me," Benton replied, glancing at the door again. After a moment, he asked cautiously, "Where are Jonny and Jessie?" 

Hadji and Kefira exchanged a swift look before Hadji replied, "They are putting away the last of the food and then I believe they were going to retire."

"I see," Benton replied flatly.

"So, Admiral Bennett," Hadji said hastily, "what brings you out to see us again so soon?"

"A little of this and a little of that," the military man replied, pretending not to notice the sudden tension in the room. "Actually, one of the reasons I'm here is to talk with you."

Hadji raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Me? I will certainly help in any way I can, but what could you possibly need from me?"

"Information." Bennett contemplated the young man for a long moment. "My Asian operatives are getting a bit concerned about some of the rumors that are coming out of Central India . . . particularly those from Bangalore, and I was hoping you could shed some light on what is going on over there."

"What kind of rumors?" Hadji asked carefully.

"Unrest, possible insurrection, and a building power struggle."

Benton made a sound of distress as Race sat forward swiftly and asked, "Hadji, is this true?"

The young man leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap, and replied, "It is true that Bangalore is struggling right now. Change is difficult at the best of times, and there is a very sharp line between the older conservatives and the younger, more progressive people of my country. It also seems there are very few who take a middle ground, so it makes compromise exceedingly difficult. But I do not believe that the situation is incendiary enough to be concerned about a possible insurrection. At least not at this time."

"Do you know a man by the name of Arun Birla?" Bennett persisted.

"I know him," Hadji acknowledged noncommittally.

Bennett stared hard at the younger man. "Who is he?"

"Why do you wish to know?" Hadji countered, somewhat coldly.

"Is there a reason you don't want to answer the question?"

Hadji frowned at the older man. "You mean aside from the fact that I object to you coming into my home at 2:00 in the morning and demanding answers to questions about the citizens of my country with absolutely no warning and no explanation? Tell me, Admiral, would you show the same discourtesy to the Queen of England or the Prime Minister of Canada?"

Bennett blinked in astonishment, caught off-guard by the harsh rebuttal. "No, of course not. But I thought . . ."

"You thought to trade on a family friendship," Hadji interrupted, rising to his feet. "Not to mention that you do not recognize me as the ruler of Bangalore."

"Well, you are here rather than being in Bangalore and I assumed . . . " Hadji's eyes flashed in fury and Bennett realized too late that he had made a serious mistake.

"You assumed . . . and you know what that makes you, don't you, Admiral?" he questioned angrily. "Like it or not, I _am_ the Sultan of Bangalore," Hadji said bitterly. "I have a council that advises me on issues, I have a Regent that handles the day-to-day duties in my absence, and I have a telephone bill that is the size of the government budgets of some third-world countries. I am **here** because it is in the best interests of my country that I complete my education with all possible haste. The woman who is to be my wife is here for the same reason. As for details concerning my countrymen, I would suggest that if you have a valid reason for needing that information, you should go through the proper channels to request it. Now, if you will excuse us . . ." Hadji extended his hand imperiously and said, "My lady . . ." Kefira rose immediately, placing her hand in his. As one, they turned and bowed briefly to Benton Quest. "If you will excuse us, Father, I believe we will retire now, as well." Benton nodded and the couple turned and walked out of the room without another word.

After a long moment, Bennett cursed softly and shook his head. "I seriously blew that."

"Yes, you did," Benton agreed. He grimaced and rubbed his face wearily. "Hadji's not a child any longer. Neither of my boys is."

Bennett frowned and exchanged a worried glance with Race. "Are you alright, Dr. Quest? You don't look very well this evening."

"I'm tired, Admiral, that's all." Benton sighed and levered himself to his feet. "I believe I'm going to follow my son's lead and go on to bed." He waved vaguely. "You'll stay the night, of course. It's too late for you to leave now. The room you used at Christmas is made up and ready. Make yourself at home."

Bennett rose and replied, "Thank you," but he doubted that Benton Quest heard him as he left the room. Spinning to face Race and Estella, he demanded, "What's wrong with him?"

"You heard him, Admiral." Race replied. "He's tired . . ."

"Don't give me that! This is a hell of a lot more than just tired. He's aged 10 years since I saw him a couple of months ago."

"He _**is**_ tired," Estella said quietly. "Tired at heart and tired in spirit. The business at Christmas hit him harder than any of us realized."

"He hates killing, Admiral," Race said, as he refilled the brandy glasses again. "You know that. Do you have any idea what the final death toll was here? Close to 200. And that doesn't count Baxter and Leeds. One hundred and ninety-three men, the majority of them killed by systems he invented."

"You're telling me he's having a crisis of conscience over the business at Christmas?" Bennett asked incredulously. "That wasn't his fault. Good God, all he was trying to do was defend his family!"

Estella shook her head. "You don't understand. The very reason that he stood his ground and fought at Christmas was to prevent people from using his work to harm others . . . the very thing, he himself, ended up doing. Couple that with the emotional shocks he's been hit with over the last two years and it is no wonder he's tired and depressed."

"Has Dr. Mason taken a look at him?"

"She's keeping an eye on him," Race replied. "So are we."

"What about he and Jonny? Something's wrong there, too."

Race and Estella exchanged looks again, and Race acknowledged, "Yes, there is."

Bennett easily recalled how the entire family had rallied around Benton Quest as they made the decision to stand and fight Baxter and his men. He remembered the way that solidarity had made him feel and he was suddenly very sad. "What's happened?"

Race shook his head. "I'd rather not say, Admiral. It's a family matter and I think it's best left that way."

Bennett nodded and rose, setting his untouched glass on the edge of the desk. "Please tell Dr. Quest that although I appreciate the offer, I won't stay the night. I really need to be back in Washington tomorrow and getting a head start on the drive is probably a good idea." Bennett held up his hand, cutting off Estella's protest. "I also think that having strangers around right now is probably not a wise idea, particularly since I have angered Mr. Singh. If you'll be good enough to extend my apologies to he and Ms. Subramanian, I would appreciate it. He was absolutely right and I will notify the State Department that we owe him a formal letter of apology."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Admiral," Race replied.

"Nevertheless . . . And Race, if there is anything that I can do to help, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thank you, Admiral. I'll remember."

Bennett waved the two back toward their chairs. "Don't get up. I can see myself out."

Race and Estella stood listening until they heard the front door close. Then Race said quietly, "IRIS, monitor Admiral Bennett until he gets off of the Compound property, then close and lock the gate and run a security check on the entire facility. Notify me of anything out of the ordinary."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

Race leaned wearily against the desk and drained the brandy from his glass in one long draught before setting it down. He shook his head sadly. "My god, Estella . . . what's happening to us?"

Estella wrapped her arms around her husband and laid her head on his chest. "I don't know, Race. I used to believe that nothing could ever touch this family. Even in the most dire of circumstances, I've watched you all pull together and draw the necessary strength from each other to beat impossible situations again and again. But now . . . " She trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

Race felt Estella's tears soak into the front of his shirt, and he clung to her like a lifeline. "But now . . . " he finished in a choked voice, " . . . nothing is ever going to be the same again . . ."

  


**THE END**  
(for now)

  
  


(c) 2000 Debbie Kluge

  


DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 2000 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights reserved. Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.


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